


The Mudblood's Daughter Rewritten

by LadyLady1994



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Family, Future Fic, Secrets, Unplanned Pregnancy, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:47:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 23,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27389713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyLady1994/pseuds/LadyLady1994
Summary: Durining the war, Hermione made a mistake in a moment of weakness. Now, 11 years later, she has to figure out how best to solve the problem of having concealed her daughter from her father, Draco Malfoy, and to tell her daughter just who her father is.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Pansy Parkinson/Ron Weasley
Comments: 49
Kudos: 188





	1. The Mistake

_November 1996_

_Hermione Granger pushed through the crowds of people in the Gryffindor Common Room, through the din of cheers and whooping as Ron Weasley snogged Lavender Brown in the centre of the room. Her heart pound against her rib cage as she ran from the scene and she bit on her lip to keep from crying out loud. The air around her seemed to crackle with magic and she stumbled down the corridors without any thought of where she was running to. Falling into one of the girl’s bathrooms, she buried her face in her hands and fell against the sink, sobbing. Hurt surged through her veins, burning her throat like she had drank a gallon of firewhiskey. How could she be so stupid? She had really thought, after the jealousy and the seeming flirtation of the last years, she had really thought that Ron was going to finally pluck up the courage to ask her out. She felt ridiculous. After a few moments, she took a deep and shuddery breath wiping her eyes on her sleeve._

_No, she would not be this girl. Not some simpering, crying fool over a boy. She was Hermione Jean Granger, and she was much stronger, much smarter than this. Yet she couldn’t deny the heaviness of her heart and the empty pit in her stomach. She stood and stared at the person staring back. As usual her main of dark hair seemed to float in wild curls. The frizz had somehow reduced over the years, but the untameable curls had remained. She could, on occasion, tame them with potions yet it never remained. She supposed she had nice eyes and her teeth had greatly improved since the hexing fiasco, but she would never be able to say she was overly beautiful. If anything, she was mostly pretty. The little voice that always played on her insecurities piped up in her head._

_‘No wonder Ron is snogging Lavender instead of you. Why would anyone care to try snogging you?’_

_“Oh, shut up, just shut up!” she snapped at the voice, smacking her hands onto the sink. Looking at herself, her eyes widened when she saw a small movement behind her and spun with a gasp whipping her wand out in defence._

_“Talking to yourself, Granger? You know that’s the first sign of madness,” Draco Malfoy drawled, however even she could tell there was distinctly less bite behind it then usual. If anything, he seemed exhausted, his usually proud posture slumped and shadows hanging under his eyes. Hermione scowled at him._

_“I don’t see how that is any care of yours, Malfoy. What are you even doing in here, this is the girls lavatory,” she snipped, and he raised an eyebrow at her, gesturing over her shoulder to the urinals she was CERTAIN were not there before he came in._

_“I think you’ll find, Granger, this is not the girl’s bathroom,” he drawled. For the first time, Hermione saw something other than exhaustion and malice in his eyes, a soft humour seeming to swirl through the silvery grey. She stammered for a moment, her cheeks burning, before growling and moving to storm past him. Before she could pass, Malfoy grabbed her forearm in his hand, stopping her in her tracks. Sparks seemed to shoot up her arm as Hermione spun to face him, ready to chew him out for daring to touch her. The look on his face stopped her. He looked almost concerned, and there was something she just couldn’t quite place in his expression. His lips were set firm, his silver brows furrowed like he was confused as to why he had taken hold of her also. “Why were you crying?”_

_“I… What?” Hermione stumbled over her words, confusion dancing over her face. Malfoy reiterated his previous words, deliberately drawling the syllables out. Hermione’s eyebrows raised, searching his face for any hint of mockery. She found none. “I… It’s nothing. Just Ron being stupid.”_

_Draco laughed, heartily. “When is the Weasel King anything other than a complete plonker?” he queried, with genuine curiosity. Despite the situation with Ron, Hermione bristled, ready to defend her friend before she stopped herself. After a moment, her attention was drawn back to the heat around her wrist, the warmth flowing from his palm. Malfoy’s eyes followed hers and he stared at his hand on her arm. Hermione couldn’t hide her surprise that he was touching her, a so-called ‘filthy mudblood’. There was no malice in his expression, just exhaustion and disbelief. His mouth opened slightly as if to say something, but stopped, looking up to meet her eyes. Hermione inhaled sharply at the look, the heat in his gaze, some sort of unbidden emotion swirling within them._

_“Mal-“she was promptly cut off by his lips on hers. She gasped sharply, her eyes widening and pulling away swiftly. His chest heaved and she stared with a shocked gaze. Her stomach fluttered and she too in his sharp, pointed features, the sheen of his silvery hair. Malfoy was, undoubtedly, handsome, and she couldn’t help the sharp pang of desire that swept through her. Hermione’s heart pounded in her chest and he dropped her arm, stammering. Immediately, she missed the contact of his flesh on hers and unbidden, reached out to grab his hand. She needed to feel something, she wanted to feel him. Without thinking, she leaned forward and pressed her lips softly against his, closing her eyes. It took him a second to respond, his hand slipping from hers and around her waist. His other hand wound up in her hair, mussing the already wild curls._

_The kiss was not soft, was not gentle. It seemed to ignite her from the pit of her stomach as she fought him for dominance. He did not relent, and she broke away from his lips for air, gasping as he kissed along her jaw and down her neck, tracing the gentle outline of her collarbone with his surprisingly soft lips. She shivered at the gently touch, his hand slipping under the hem of her jumper. Briefly Draco stopped kissing her and gazed probingly in her eyes, looking for some sign of resistance. She swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat, her skin tingling from where his lips had been previously, her lips throbbing from the pressure. Hermione knew it was wrong. She knew in the pit of her stomach she shouldn’t want him, not here, this wasn’t how or who this was supposed to happen with. But she steeled herself against those thoughts, and grabbed the back of Malfoy’s neck, tugging his head down to hers._

_‘Don’t stop,’ she whispered into his mouth as she kissed him passionately, and for once, he did as he was told._  
_-_  
_Hermione pulled her clothes to her, gasping awake as she looked around the floor of the bathroom. Malfoy had his eyes closed, having briefly drifted off after they had collided in ecstasy. Her eyes filled with tears, and she grasped for her wand. Panic rose in her throat, and immediately she felt sick in herself. What had she done? How could she have given herself over so easily? Her grip tightened on her wand and bit her lip. He would forever hold this over her head. He was a potential Death Eater for Merlin’s sake! Her brain, the greatest mind of her generation, raced through all potential options before she settled on one._

_Raising her wand, she stared at Malfoy’s sleeping face with a heavy heart. Closing her eyes and taking a deep, shaking breath, Hermione focused intently on her spell._  
_“Obliviate.”_

17th July 1997

_Hermione screamed as her insides seem to tear. She tugged on the blankets under her, sobbing as the pain relented momentarily. Hermione reached for Ginny Weasley, tears streaming down red stained cheeks._

_“I can’t! I can’t do it, please don’t make me push again,” she sobbed her forehead resting on her best female friends’ arm. Ginny rubbed her back gently, whispering soft comforts to Hermione as she sobbed. Molly Weasley tutted from between Hermione’s legs, a bowl of hot water floating beside her and directing an enchanted towel to dab along Hermione’s forehead._

_“Come on, my girl, this little one is not going to wait for you to be ready. She is ready to come now, so come on, sweetheart, and give me one final big push,” Molly instructed. Hermione moaned, and sat up more. At Molly’s urging, Hermione put every piece of strength she had left into pushing. With a savage scream that tore from her throat, holding Ginny’s hand with grip that made Ginny fall to her knees. She fell back when with relief as the baby slipped from her, breathing heavily. Sweat beaded along her brow, and she began to frown when her baby did not cry. Stumbling over Molly’s name in panic, Molly shook her head as she cleared the baby’s airway._

_One nerve-wracking second later, the baby let out a sharp piercing wail that tore through the room. Hermione sob-laughed in relief, leaning into Ginny as Molly cut the cord and wrapped the small baby in a pink blanket, moving round to Hermione’s side._

_“Here we go, sweetheart, look who’s here,” she stated, handing the baby over. Hermione sobbed as she took her daughter into her arms, gazing at her scrunched angry face as she wailed. Hermione shushed her gently, rocking her arms as she cried silently. Tiny little hands scrunched and flexed; wisps of silvery blond curls coated her tiny head and a sweet little mouth quieted when Hermione put touched them gently with her fingertip. Hermione could vaguely make out Ginny saying how beautiful she was, Molly repositioning between her legs to catch the afterbirth and Harry and Ron on the other side of the door, hollering for news._

_“I’ll never let anything bad happen to you,” she whispered, and the baby made a gurgle noise, drifting off to sleep. She handed her over to Ginny while she finished the birthing of the placenta, and Molly did some quick healing spells and a ‘Scourgify’ to tidy everything up. Once done, the baby was safely placed in her arms again. Covering her with a soft blanket, Molly assisted Hermione in convincing the baby to latch. After a moment, the baby latched, and Hermione winced at the pain that came along with it. She had read previously that this was normal, but the reading had in no way prepared her for the reality of breastfeeding or of childbirth itself._

_“Are you ready to see the boys?” Molly asked, as the knocking on the door became more persistent. Hermione sniffed, and nodded, not taking her soft gaze of the miracle that was her baby girl. Harry and Ron fell through the door as Molly opened it, warning them both sharply to keep the noise down. Ron stared at her with wide eyes, as Harry round the bed to the spot Ginny had vacated._

_“Bloody ‘ell, ‘Mione. You’re a mum!” Ron exclaimed; his voice considerably louder than he meant. Molly gave him a swift, but gentle swipe on the arm, before leaving the room. Hermione laughed gently and gazed at her two friends of nearly 7 years. “What’ya going to call her?”_

_Hermione beamed, looking at her little girl. “Harry, Ron, meet Aurora Jane Granger,” she said softly, and Harry let out a breath he had been holding._

_“She’s beautiful, Hermione,” he said, and Hermione glowed in response. Harry held out his arms, asking ‘May I’ softly. Hermione nodded and handed the baby over, instructing to hold the head strictly. “What are we going to do?”_

_Hermione knew what he was asking, and it tore her heart in two. He was asking about the mission left by Dumbledore, to hunt down the remaining Horcruxes. They were supposed to leave for it soon, however Hermione finding out she was pregnant and due in August had been a substantial bump in the road. Hermione grit her teeth, nausea swirling in her stomach as she looked between her two friends and her baby. Every part of her wanted to stay close to her daughter, to protect her, but she knew, deep down, if she didn’t help Harry then her daughter never would be truly safe. She had to do this, she had to hunt down the Horcruxes to give her daughter any hope of a future. Her and Molly had already discussed it at length. Molly would care for the baby, with Fleur’s assistance, while she was supposed to be at ‘school’ and keep her safe. As far as Molly was concerned, there had been no question about what she was going to do. Hermione would finish school and Molly would bring the baby to Hogsmeade by Floo to visit every weekend. Hermione hadn’t the heart to tell her they weren’t going back, that was just between the three of them._

_Swallowing, she looked at her daughter with a sad gaze. Her daughter would potentially be walking or talking depending upon how long the hunt for the Horcruxes lasted when she next saw her. Another small piece of her heart broke as she took a deep breath and explained the plan._

_Two weeks later, Hermione sobbed as she lay on the floor next to a bed in 12 Grimmauld Place, her entire being shattered following the attack on Fleur and Bill’s wedding. Ron wrapped his arms around her, rocking her back and forth as Harry looked on with sorrow in his eyes. While she had prepared for the fact she would have to leave the baby, she had not been prepared for the gut-wrenching agony of leaving her daughter behind or for the hollow emptiness that had filled her heart._

_They would find the Horcruxes, and she would return to her baby. There was no option not to._

29th August 2008

The sun hung low in the sky, creating a soft orange hue over the Burrow. The garden was teaming with life of all ages, young children running and laughing, adults sitting around a table enjoying the final warm nights of the summer. Candles floated in the air, casting a soft glow over the area. Tables were set together, of varying heights and woods, laden with various sweets, meats and vegetables. Hermione Granger sat amongst it all, spoon feeding a fiery haired young toddler who tried to grab it each time. He had more food over his body, then had managed to go into his mouth. Hermione laughed lightly when the boy shrieked at her and threw the bowl to the grass before clapping his hands to his face.

“Artie! Such a mucky boy,” she teased, reaching for a cloth to wipe his face. Artie squealed with delight as she wiped his face with the cloth, before he was lifted from the chair by his mother, Charissa Hallows. Hermione, even after years of knowing the previous Beauxbatons student, after discovering in her fourth year that Charissa was her cousin, was still struck by the similarity the woman bore to her. Unlike her, the wild dark hair was tamed into somewhat manageable curls, but they shared the same dark eyes and freckled skin. Charissa was the daughter of one of the oldest wizarding families, the Hallows line. She had believed to be the last of her line, thinking that Hermione’s mother and father had perished the First Wizarding War, her own mother, father and sister had all died also at the hands of Death Eaters when she was eleven. Her father, Killian Malfoy, had been a relation to Lucius Malfoy but had been banished from the family following his refusal to join Voldemort. Hermione smiled lightly at Charissa, who beamed back before Charlie Weasley snuck up behind her, placing a kiss on her cheek.

“How you doing, ‘Mione?” he asked, his voice gruff and rugged. Charlie Weasley was, for all purposes, a gruff and rugged man, married to someone who most of the time seemed the exact opposite. Hermione tilted her head, with a small shrug.

“I am well, Charlie, work has been keeping me remarkably busy, and helping Aurora prepare for school has been a task in itself,” Hermione responded, resting her chin on her hand. Her eyebrows furrowed, and a small prickle of concern rose in her when she realised, she could not spot her only child amongst the Weasley clan. “Speaking of my delightful daughter, have either of you two seen Aurora?”

“Oh, I saw her inside with Teddy not too long ago,” Charlie responded, grabbing a chicken leg off the table and taking a bite. Small amounts of sauce dribbled down his stubble, and Charissa scrunched up her nose at her husband and mumbled ‘You’re disgusting’ with a light tone to her voice. He grinned wickedly. “Oh disgusting, am I?” he queried, before enveloping her in his arms and rubbing his chin over her face. Artie squalled with delights and reached for his father’s face while Charissa yelped and ducked her head as Charlie smothered her with kisses.

Hermione just chuckled to herself and shook her head at the couple’s antics. In the 7 years they had been together, the couple had managed to have 5 children, with another currently on the way. It had become a running joke amongst the Weasley Clan on when she would next have a baby. Hermione’s last bet had lined her pockets nicely for the week. She looked around again, curious as to where her beloved offspring had disappeared to, when a mane of silvery blonde curls ran from the Burrow, closely followed by a blur of blue. Molly’s voice hollered from the house with surprising clarity, and Hermione had to stifle a small smirk at the wonder of what her 11-year-old was up to. The two children ran behind a tree, hiding from the wrath of Molly Weasley and giggling away to themselves conspiratorially. Shaking her head, Hermione stood and started to clear the table, feeling the night starting to wind down as the younger children at the gathering began to fuss and yawn.

Bit-by-bit, the Weasley clan began to filter out to their own homes, with extra attentive hugs and kisses given in goodbyes and promises to ‘See you soon’ exchanged lightly. After a moment, it was only the Golden Trio, Molly and Arthur and Charissa and Charlie left, sitting around the table in the Burrow’s kitchen, nursing cups of tea and laughing at Ron’s newest story. Hermione’s gaze drifted to her daughter on the couch in the corner, her nose buried in Hogwarts: A History. The young girl was almost entirely her mother’s daughter, with wild curls, dark brown eyes and freckled, honey toned skin. The only difference was the pointed nature of her nose and chin, and the shockingly silver hair on her head. Hermione couldn’t help but marvel at how her daughter had grown and her stomach twisted at the thought of putting her on a train on the coming Monday to begin her first year at Hogwarts. It felt entirely too soon for Hermione, who still remembered changing the nappies and teaching her to read, yet here it was. Her little girl’s big adventure into the world, to a place that held so many wonderful and so many painful memories for Hermione. She had almost considered when Charissa had suggested Beauxbatons rather than Hogwarts for Aurora but knew she couldn’t separate her from Teddy in that way.

Her reverie was cut short by Charissa mentioning a name she hadn’t heard in good few years. “So, Draco is back in town,” her cousin stated, rather nonchalantly. Harry furrowed his eyebrows and Ron full on scowled.

“What’s that git doing back here? I thought he’d moved off to America with his wife,” Ron sneered, and Hermione frowned at him. Her stomach twisted slightly as her eyes drifted over to her daughter who was thankfully still engrossed in her book. Charissa shot Ron a glare, before continuing.

“They were living in the States but decided to move back for Scorpius. He is just the sweetest wee baby, only two years old! They came by the Mansion for tea. It was all very civilised…” Charissa explained. Hermione had read about the Malfoy family in the Daily Prophet, how Draco was working with the Magical Congress of the United States of America as a Legislator and his beautiful wife Astoria had given birth to the first Malfoy heir. As her cousin continued, Hermione felt herself grow more and more anxious. It had been so easy to pretend that Malfoy didn’t exist anymore, to make sure he didn’t find out about Aurora. Even as hard as it was to explain her daughters lack of father to everyone, she imagined it would be 100 times harder to explain that she had 1. Slept with Draco Malfoy, 2. Obliviated him afterwards and 3. Hid the fact he was the father of her child for eleven years.

“I still say he should never have been pardoned,” Ron stated defiantly, having begun to argue with Charissa about the truly positive turnaround that was apparently Draco Malfoy now he had his son. Ron scoffed, and voiced his disbelief loudly. Charissa glowered at him with dark eyes, before sighing heavily. Excusing herself, she began her goodbyes with a pointed look at Charlie. Charlie gave his brother a frustrated look, knowing he was going to hear about this for the next few hours from his wife, before giving his mother a hug goodbye. Hermione waved as they used the Floo to shuffle their children home, before giving Ron a pointed look.

“You know she’s sensitive about family, Ron,” Hermione toned flatly, and Ron shrugged before the clock chimed over his shoulder. With wide blue eyes Ron shot up with a nasty swear.

“Shit, I need to get home. Pansy is going to kill me if I’m late,” Ron hastily stated as he gathered his things. On one of the most surprising turns following the end of the War, was the relationship that had developed between Ron Weasley and Pansy Parkinson. About five years after the war (and a rather disastrous attempt at Hermione and Ron dating), the two had bumped into each other in the dining hall of the Ministry of Magic. After a few barbed insults and tense conversations, the attraction between the two had blossomed and now they were married, with a highly temperamental fiery haired little two-year-old named Rose. Following Ron’s leave, Harry and Ginny made their goodbyes also, collecting Teddy from the floor next to Aurora and their two children to go home. Gathering her things, Hermione instructed Aurora to begin to get ready when a knowing look in Molly’s eyes stopped her movements.

“Are you alright, dear?” she asked gently, her aged hand resting on Hermione’s arm delicately. Hermione looked at Molly with wide eyes, her eyebrows furrowed deeply. “Do not think I do not know, dear, who the father of your darling girl is. I have always known.”

“I… how? How could you know? I never told anyone,” Hermione hissed under her breath sharply, casting a worried glance to her daughter. Molly gave her a sad smile, also glancing to Aurora with a gentle gaze.

“Her features, her hair. Her magic. She is very much a Malfoy at times,” Molly said gently, and  
Hermione felt shame creep over her, her neck flushing red. “You never told the boy, did you?”

“No, he doesn’t even remember that we were ever together. It has to stay that way, it would be so confusing for her now to find out he was her father,” Hermione whispered, her eyes tearing. Molly swept her tightly into her arms and squeezed Hermione. Hermione hugged back firmly, and Molly pulled away after a moment.

“You may not want to hear this, sweetie, but he is going to find out. The only thing that will make it better, is if he finds out from you,” Molly states, before patting her gently on the shoulder and leaving her alone in the kitchen of the Burrow.

Dread pooled in Hermione’s stomach, as she watched Molly leave. She couldn’t know how Molly’s words would come true, but she couldn’t argue she was wrong. Now Malfoy was back, it was only a matter of time before they ran into each other. It was only a matter of time before some journalist or another wrote some scandal about Hermione or her daughter, despite Hermione keeping Aurora out of the public eye as much as possible. Eventually, Malfoy would see Aurora, and he would know.

It was just a matter of when.

\--

The official reboot of The Mudbloods Daughter, originally posted on Fanfiction.net has now begun. For my original readers, please know this will be a bit different to the version previously read, including the name of Hermione's daughter. Some of the old will still be here, some will be new.

Either way, I hope you enjoy!


	2. Luria the Owl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A horrifying nightmare, a surprise visit, and a trip to Diagon Alley!

29th August 2008

H _ermione sobbed, feeling her being ripped apart. The Crucio curse caused bone-breaking agony to sweep through her body. She screamed, her lungs burning, and she clung to her stomach, the long-passed, but not-forgotten reflex to protect her daughter at any cost fighting through._

_“No… please no… my baby…” she sobbed, her voice barely a whisper as the curse waned. Bellatrix continued to shriek, questioning her about the Vault, about the sword. Blood seeped from the cuts in Hermione’s arm and she felt her body breaking, her mind exhausting. ‘Mudblood’ was carved into her flesh and she, for a moment, felt the true hatred and disgust behind the word. More than anything though, she felt desperation from her curled-up position, and her dark eyes searched around the room for any sign of hope._

_Her eyes caught those of Narcissa Malfoy, who had a hand over her mouth as she held back her own horror. Narcissa swallowed heavily, and held out a hand to her deranged, ranting sister. “Maybe… maybe I could try questioning her?” Narcissa whispered, her voice barely a whisper. Bellatrix swung on her._

_“YOU? You want to question the filthy little mudblood? What are YOU going to do, dear Cissy? CRUCIO!” Bellatrix shrieked, her final word to curse Hermione again. She screamed in agony, feeling her skin burn, her bones break. Tears streamed freely down her face and she clung to her jumper as the spell wore off, her screams falling client._

_Narcissa stared at her sister with wide, piercing silver eyes. So much like her son. Hermione could feel her grasp on her life slipping, her grasp on her own sanity slipping. Bellatrix turned on her, pacing angrily and ranting. Narcissa bit her lip and strode quietly over to Hermione. She didn’t touch her, just crouched down over her with an expression Hermione would call worried. That made her feel her sanity had completely gone, and she reached out to Narcissa._

_“Please… please don’t let them hurt her… don’t let them hurt my baby…” Hermione sobbed gently. She had to tell someone. They had to know her daughter’s father. She couldn’t leave her without a mother and a father. “Draco’s her father, please…. Don’t let them hurt her….’_

_As she begged, Bellatrix spun. Seeing Hermione reach for her sister, she gasped with horror and immediately unleashed another ‘Crucio’ upon Hermione. After a moment of pure terror, Hermione’ entire world went black._

Hermione shot up in her bed, panting at the long-displaced memory in her dreams. Her fingers lightly chased the remaining scars on the inner flesh of her arm, and she closed her eyes against the day. The disrupted sleep from the night hung over her and she groaned as she moved to get out of her bed. Every muscle felt tight and her bones all seemed to creak with an age-old pain as she moved. Brushing the segments of her dream from her mind, she forced her mind to go over the plans for her day, having had a rare lie-in before Aurora went off for her first year at Hogwarts. Hermione still couldn’t believe quite that her baby girl was old enough to go off to school, but every day her daughter reminded her more and more she wasn’t a little girl.

The dregs of her dream seemed to cling to her even after she showered. She quickly dried her hair, before twisting and clipping the curls into a mass bun on top of her head. She reached into her closet, and in her own fashion pulled out the closest matching outfit. One of the few perks of Charissa being her cousin, every item in her wardrobe now matched. While she herself didn’t care all so much, it made getting ready for work are leaving the house far faster.

Practicality was key in her life, between managing her job as Head Researcher within the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, ensuring Aurora remained focused on her studies and, also, behaving while at school. The issue wasn’t that she was a troublemaker, but more that she was stubborn and had a hair-trigger temper. Once she was dressed in a simple blue blouse, black jeans and long grey cardigan, she applied a light coating of mascara to her lashes and gave herself the once-over. She looked good. With a curt nod of affirmation, she left her bedroom. Crookshanks ran ahead of her with a series of sharp yowls, ready for his breakfast.

Hermione came to sharp stop at the bottom of her stairs, when she turned the corner to see the absolute chaos that had taken over her kitchen. Flour coated the tops of the counters, with two eggs smashed on the tiles. Pancake batter was splashed all over the hob, and a quick gaze upwards showed an off-shaped pancake stuck to the ceiling. Amid all, was her 11-year-old daughter, with a wide, toothy grin and wild blonde curls. Aurora cheered when she saw her mother, throwing her hands up and running around the kitchen island to hug her. Hermione very swiftly held a hand up, stepping back when she saw the state of her daughter. Pancake batter had crusted on her cheek, flour coated her front and Hermione was sure she could see eggshell tangled in her hair.

  
“Mom! I made pancakes for breakfast, ‘because I go away soon, but I made a mess, and I’m really sorry, but I really tried and I only burnt two!” Aurora jabbered, her dark eyes bright and exuberant. Hermione’s eyebrows raised and she looked around the kitchen.

“Aurora, what have I told you about using the hob without an adult present?” Hermione queried; a faux-warning tone laced through her voice. Aurora blinked, furrowed her eyebrows and looked around sheepishly.

“Not too, but I swear, Momma, Dagna was here helping. She went to do washing!” Aurora swore and Hermione pursed her lips, before smiling at her daughter and wiping the pancake batter from her cheek. It wasn’t that she necessarily believed Aurora, because there was no way that Dagna the House Elf would ever leave if she knew the kitchen would look like this, but on one of her last days at home it was not worth the argument that would ensue when her daughter had tried to do something genuinely kind. With a soft chuckle, Hermione gave a small wave of her wand and the kitchen began to set itself right.

“How about we go to the new waffle place on the way to Diagon Alley instead?” Hermione asked, cupping her daughter’s cheeks in her palms. Aurora’s eyes widened and she nodded swiftly. Giving her a quick kiss on the forehead, Hermione told her to go get ready while she got herself a coffee. Due to the natural untameable nature of her hair, Aurora took great pains in taking her time to wash, comb and dry her hair.

Charissa had once said that for all its amazing qualities, there were some things magic just couldn’t do well and that was hair care. Sleek-eazy potion may be all the rage in the Wizarding world, but Charissa stood by her stance that some things should be done the muggle way. Hermione couldn’t pretend she was inclined to disagree, when Charissa had introduced her to the world of specialised shampoo and conditioners, to proper ‘blow-outs’ of her hair, and to the somehow magic, but not magic, of hair oils. While Hermione didn’t indulge in them to the same extent, Aurora loved the treatments and pampering.

Sitting down with her coffee, Hermione picked up the closest book on the table and browsed through while she waited. The roar of the fireplace caused her to look up and raise an eyebrow as the ever-immaculate Narcissa Malfoy strode into her living room with a swift ‘Scourgify’ of her dark robes. Closing her book, Hermione stood and went over to pour Narcissa some coffee as the woman sat down with a graceful flourish. Her dream came over her again, and Hermione swallowed the lump that formed in her throat as she handed Narcissa her coffee.

“We weren’t expecting you this morning, Narcissa,” Hermione stated pointedly. Shortly after the war, Narcissa had approached Hermione regarding the claims she had made at Malfoy Manor. It had been a nerve-wracking, fear-inducing moment for Hermione, as she had clutched her young toddler to her chest against her protests. Narcissa has been apologetic and had sobbed when she saw Aurora. The toddler had reminder Narcissa so much of Draco as a baby, even with her honey-toned skin and dark eyes. Narcissa had agreed she would keep the child’s existence a secret, but on the condition, she was allowed contact with her. After her failings with her own son, she wanted to make amends with his daughter even if he didn’t know about her. Narcissa had, for years, tried to manoeuvre Hermione into telling Draco until the man had married Astoria Greengrass. After that, subject had promptly been dropped.

“Yes, well, I have a present for Aurora. It’s tradition, within the Malfoy line, to gift the child on their progression in their studies,” Narcissa sniffed, taking a sip of the coffee delicately. Hermione couldn’t say she didn’t like Narcissa. After 10 years of play dates, dinners and coffee with the woman, she had a healthy respect and a soft spot for the older woman, who had let go of some of her own prejudices over the years. Hermione had to allow a soft smile at the memory of Narcissa’s first interaction with Muggle technology. The woman had taken hours to grasp it, struggling to comprehend how such a ‘primitive being’ had advanced so far. Hermione had deeply enjoyed explaining NASA, science and computers to Narcissa.

“That’s very kind of you, Narcissa,” Hermione responded lightly, sitting opposite her and Narcissa smiled, her hands clasping in her lap.

“Well, the child may not be a Malfoy in name, but she is by blood. Therefore, it only pertinent that she experiences some of the family traditions,” Narcissa toned sweetly, although Hermione could feel the slight bitterness of in the woman’s voice. Hermione narrowly stopped herself from mentioning the Malfoy tradition of ‘Pureblood Supremacy’, however the conversation was ended by Aurora skipping down the stairs. Her eyes lit up when she saw Narcissa and she darted forward, wrapping her arms around her neck.

“Mrs Malfoy! How have you been? It’s so good to see you!” Aurora yammered excitedly, and Narcissa gave her a gentle pat on the back before gesturing for her to sit. Aurora quickly sat down, clasping her hands in her lap politely. Narcissa reached into her robes, and pulled out a small, neatly wrapped box.

“In celebration of your advancement to Hogwarts, I have a present for you. Now, this was given to me when I was a girl, and while we may not share a name, I want you to have this,” Narcissa stated, and she slid the box along the table to Aurora. After a moment, Aurora lightly picked up the box and undid the black satin bow, lifting the lid of the deep green box. She gasped sharply, her eyes widening.

“It’s…. it’s beautiful!” Aurora whispered, and she lifted a delicate silver bracelet from the box. The clasp was a snake’s head biting its tail, with glittering emeralds for eyes. The scales along the back of the bracelet were studded with diamonds, and a small silver charm of the Hogwarts Crest hung from the snakes’ body. Hermione, for how beautiful the bracelet was, immediately was concerned about this gift. It looked ridiculously valuable, and for all her daughter’s good qualities, keeping track of things she owned was not one of her strong points. “Thank you so much, Mrs Malfoy! I absolutely love it!”

Aurora bounced up and hugged Narcissa tightly, before slipping the bracelet on and thrusting her wrist in her mom’s face. Hermione leaned back a little but gave her daughter a soft smile and stated it was exceptionally beautiful. After a small moment, Narcissa sniffed and stood, smoothing her robes.

“Anyway, I must get back to the Manor. I only wished to drop this off. I will not distract from your day any further,” Narcissa stated, her tone decisive yet polite. Aurora looked momentarily put-out, wanting to argue but her mouth stayed shut. Once Narcissa had disappeared in the fireplace, Hermione stood with a clap.

“Okay! Time for Diagon Alley!” she exclaimed, and Aurora’s face lit up again.

\--

Diagon Alley, as expected, was a bustling hub of young wizards and witches, their parents chasing after them with bags of supplies for the new year at Hogwarts. Hermione and Aurora pushed through the crowds, Hermione’s eyes skimming over the itinerary she had organised for the day. First, Madam Malkin’s to pick up Aurora’s school robes, then Flourish and Blotts for schoolbooks, Slug and Jigger’s for the phials and Ollivander’s to select Aurora’s wand. Hermione’s attention was diverted by Aurora grabbing her hand and dragging her towards the Eeylops Owl Emporium.

“Come on Mom! The letter says I can take an owl with me! Please, please, please can I have an owl?” Aurora pleaded as she dragged, and Hermione sighed with exasperation as she allowed herself to be pulled into the store. She had previously told her daughter that dependent upon her reports at the end of the first year, she would consider an owl. However, she still allowed herself to be pulled along, and had to smile at her daughter’s exuberance.

After a few moments of petting various animals, Aurora’s attention was stolen with a sharp inhale. “Mom, look,” she whispered, pointing at an owl. She gestured to a spotted Barn Owl, with a soft heart-shaped face and almost glowing amber eyes. The owl fluffed her feathers and preened at Aurora from within her golden cage. Hermione had to admit the bird was stunning, and she pet the feathers gently. “Please, Mom, I know you said I had to wait, but look at her.”

Hermione stared at her daughter, and then back to the owl with a furrowed brow. After a moment of consideration, she gave a heavy breath and nodded. Aurora seemed to glow as she threw her arms around her mother, and almost cheered as she picked up the owl cage. Chanting ‘thank you’ repeatedly, Aurora led them to the front till before her mother could change her mind. Hermione shook her head as they got to the counter and the shop keeper beamed at them both. The young witch eyed the bird with a pleased look.

“Oh, I am so pleased this girl has finally been snatched up. You know, Luria is a very exceptional bird, you know! She is extremely well-behaved, can fly extra long distances and has fantastic homing tendencies,” the witch yammered, and Hermione gave her a tight smile as she fished through her bag for her purse. “That’ll be 15 Galleons, and for an extra 2 Galleons we will include the food and accessories for one year!”

Hermione politely nods and hands over the 17 Galleons, which the witch eagerly takes and cashes in. She disappears through to the back of the store for a moment and appears back with two large bags of frozen mice, accessories and treats for the owl. After casting a quick shrinking charm on the goods, Hermione popped them into the pocket of her jacket and took a hold of the cage. Aurora beamed as she skipped out of the store, Hermione trailing behind her.

The rest of the trip was standard, until the point Hermione’s arms became too tired to carry the cage, and the robes, and the books. She placed the cage on the cobbles for a moment, stretching her arm with several cracks in her bones, before opening the cage door. Aurora squealed with delight, holding her arm out for the bird to land on. After a moment of wobbling on her arm, Luria moved further up Aurora’s arm to her shoulder. Aurora grimaced as the owl’s claws dug into her skin, but she bit her lip and pet the owl’s feathers happily.

Hermione rubbed her hands over her face, trying to refocus her itinerary for their day. A moment of relief swept over when she realised the only thing left was a trip to the reappeared Florean Fortescue’s ice cream parlour, reopened by Florean’s daughter three years after the war. A surprise treat for her daughter, she really wanted to enjoy a last day out with her before she was swept off into the wonder of Hogwarts. Hermione grinned widely at her daughter and pointed to the ice cream parlour.

“Shall we, Miss Hallows?” Hermione asked, holding out her arm to her daughter.

Aurora grinned and grasped her mother’s arm.

“Oh yes! What flavour do you want, mom? I can’t wait to try the Firebean chilli pepper ice cream they serve!”

Hermione grimaced and stuck out her tongue at her silver haired daughter.

"That sounds disgusting!” she teased, and Aurora gave her a mock-outraged look, before sticking her tongue out back at her mother. Hermione laughed heartily, giving her daughter a kiss on the forehead, to which the eleven-year-old promptly pushed her away with a shout of ‘so gross!’.

Hermione, caught up in the moment with her daughter, didn’t pay attention as she slammed into a dark, rock-hard surface. She stumbled, her dark eyes widening as she lost her footing, and tumbled to the cobbled grounds below her.

Indignant rage swelled in her breast and she turned bright red, her face turning up to the individual she had walked into, biting her lip to control her temper. When she saw who she had walked into, her face turned ashen and her jaw dropped in horror.

Staring down at her, with a bouncing two-year-old boy strapped to his chest and holding two ice-cream cones in his hands which the boy was excitedly reaching for, in a black suit, with his silver hair swept back, was Draco Malfoy.


	3. The Bracelet

29th August 2008

Hermione felt like the breath had been stolen from her lungs and her legs had turned into jelly. She clambered to her feet, stammering in surprise and brushing down her clothes. Malfoy raised a pale, silvery eyebrow at her flustered state. Hermione reached for her daughter, pulling her to her side and swallowing heavily. She knew it was ridiculous, she knew she was being paranoid, but that fear that Malfoy would see Aurora and magically remember what had happened between them roared at her.

“Malfoy, didn’t see you there, sorry,” she managed to get out, and the toddler on his chest babbled at her. Malfoy moved the ice cream closer to the toddler, who happily mushed his hands into it, and Hermione felt a sharp pang in her chest. She couldn’t pretend that she had ever expected Malfoy to be a good father. She knew he would likely never hurt his child, but to see him with a toddler strapped to his chest was almost paradoxical.

“Yes, well maybe you should watch where you are walking, Granger,” he sneered, and the pang swiftly disappeared when Hermione realised, he really was still the same ferret as he was in high school. Aurora scowled at him and opened her mouth to retort when Hermione swiftly covered her mouth.

“You’re right, really should have been paying attention. Anyway, looks like you have your hands full there so we will be going,” Hermione rambled. Malfoy’s face creased at her backtracking, as she began to usher her daughter around Malfoy. What she was not expecting, was for Malfoy to move one of the ice creams to his other hand and take hold of her daughter hand with a shallow smile.

“You must be Aurora Hallows, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Charissa speaks very highly of you,” Malfoy declared, and Aurora blinked in confusion, snatching her hand away from the stranger. Malfoy sneered lightly at her, standing taller and squaring his shoulders. The toddler on his chest did nothing to detract from his imposing stature and Hermione realised just how tall Malfoy was. He wasn’t as tall as Ron, but his frame was tall, strong and proud.

“I don’t know who you are, Mister, and would prefer it if you did not touch me,” Aurora stated fiercely. Hermione felt a surge of pride at her daughter for standing her ground. Malfoy gave her a pointed look, a curt bob of his head, and then turned to Hermione.

“Granger, I hope this does not occur again,” he scorned, looking down his nose at her. The mucky two-year-old said ‘Bye-bye’ happily, waving an ice cream covered hand at Hermione when Malfoy swept past her. Hermione failed to notice the side glance he gave Aurora as he strode away. Hermione felt all the tension in her body ease and let out a long, heavy breath. Aurora stared at her mother with a confused expression, as Hermione took her hand and led her into the ice-cream parlour.

“Who was that, mom?” Aurora asked, staring over her shoulder to where Malfoy disappeared into the crowd.

“No one, Aurora. Absolutely no one,” Hermione responded, her mind swirling.

\--

Draco strode through the manor, holding his son as he entered his quarters. Astoria Greengrass-Malfoy lay in the large, dark wood bed, the deep green covers pulled up under her chest. Her skin lacked its usual colour, and a light sweat coated her brow. Her usually sleek, perfectly kept hair was held tightly out her face in a bun and her eyes were shadowed and sunken into her face. Illness had overcome her only a year after Scorpius’s birth and for a while, it had been treated and seemed to abate. Yet it had resurged with a vengeance in the previous month before Draco made the decision to bring his family back home to Malfoy Manor. He needed a position in which he could be home with his wife in the evenings, to support her as he best he could. The relationship between them was loving, but Draco could never admit he was truly in love with his wife. In all honesty, he couldn’t admit he had ever truly been in love with anyone. It had been a marriage of convenience, a way to restore the Malfoy family name somewhat in the Wizarding world and a way for Astoria to rise in the ranks of her social circles. It had been organised by both their fathers, without their consent, yet they had settled in a somewhat comfortable married life and routine.

Draco worked and Astoria attended social functions with grace, poise and a level of class he hadn’t seen outside of his own mother. She was perfect for his family, for his image, yet she was perfect for him. There was little passion or fight in the relationship, it just simply was. But she was the mother of his son, and he valued her friendship and respected her.

Her sad eyes lit up at the sight of her son, and she raised a hand weakly reach for him. Scorpius babbled ‘Mama’ happily and toddled along the bed after Draco set him down, hugging his mother. Astoria hugged him back limply before gazing up at Draco. “Draco… how was your day…” she asked breathily, her voice hoarse and Draco gave her a strained smile.

“I took Scorpius for ice-cream in Diagon Alley. Had a most interesting encounter with the Granger. The silly witch walked straight into me, not even paying attention to her steps,” he toned, reaching out to stroke his son’s sleek hair. Astoria’s eyes narrowed slightly. Draco had always had an odd obsession with the filthy mudblood. Since his fourth year, when he had seen her at the Yule Ball dancing with Viktor Krum. He had taken it as a personal slight every time she earned a better grade, had raged when she had the audacity to even be near him. He had become more obsessed with beating her, right up until the time she was tortured in the manor in front of him. He had become a shadow of himself then, as far as Astoria had heard from Blaise and her sister Daphne. He had made a comment about her not turning up to redo her seventh year, but as far as Astoria was aware, he had not spoken of her since. Every now and then though, even in America, she had found him staring at a picture of her at some event or function that turned up in the papers.

The tugging of her son on her neck distracted her from her thoughts, and she gazed at him lovingly, cooing at him. Draco coughed slightly and gave her a curt nod before leaving her with her son. As he marched from the room towards his mothers’ study, he turned a silver bracelet over in his hand, eyeing the sparkling diamonds and snakehead suspiciously. Just what had Granger’s daughter been doing with his mother’s bracelet? A bracelet, that as far as he knew, was a family heirloom passed from a mother to her daughter at a pivotal point in her life.

\--

Hermione collapsed onto her couch, exhausted after the trip to Diagon Alley. Her mind ran over the encounter with Malfoy, picking apart every word that they had said. Aurora had since disappeared up to her room, sorting out her trunk for Hogwarts with an excited energy that had Hermione smiling. She remembered preparing for her first year, the wonder and delight as she had poured through her new books, the fear that she wouldn’t make any friends, the nervousness as she had walked through the doors of the Great Hall for the first time. Hermione couldn’t wait for her daughter to experience all the joy that school would bring to her, as pained as she was that Aurora would be so far away from home for so long.

It had been a shock, to say the least to see Malfoy again. She knew he was back and that eventually she would see him again. She had hoped it would be when Aurora was safe at school and she could prepare for a meeting and properly sit down and talk to him. While she still wasn’t 100% certain on what she was going to tell him about his daughter, Hermione knew Molly had been correct. He would find out eventually, and it was better that it came from her. Aurora had already started asking questions about her father, and there were only so many times she would accept ‘I’m not ready to talk about it’ before she started looking into it on her own. Her daughter was nothing if not persistent and when she decided she really wanted to know; she would find out.

After a moment of gathering herself, she stood and headed up the stairs to her daughters’ room. She could hear the girl pounding about, Luria hooting in agitation as her daughter scurried around. Aurora was burying through her room, grunts of frustration as she dug through pockets of her robes, through the bags of good bought during their trip. The room was a state, clothes all over the floor and books all over the bed.

“Aurora, for goodness sake. You are supposed to be packing your trunk, not throwing them around your room. The train is tomorrow, Aurora,” Hermione admonished. With a wave of her wand, the clothes began to neatly fold themselves and fly into the trunk, the new schoolbooks slotting in alphabetical order. Aurora spun and looked at her mother, biting her cuticle nervously.

“I can’t find it, Mom, I can’t find the bracelet Mrs Malfoy gave me,” she mumbled. Her platinum curls were static with a frenzied magic, that and the chewing of her cuticles the only sign of her worry. Hermione frowned.

“Okay, why don’t you tell me when you last saw it and we can trace our steps, rather than trashing our rooms,” Hermione queried pointedly, pulling her daughters hand away from her mouth. Aurora’s eyebrows creased as she though back, biting on her lip now her hand was held hostage by her mother.

After a moment she stated ‘Diagon Alley’ with certainty and Hermione’s stomach dropped.

\--

Draco looked at his mother pointedly as she turned the silver bracelet over in her hand, her face decidedly closed off to his gaze. Her lips were pursed, like she was sucking on a lemon, and her eyes were narrowed on the small silver charm of the Hogwarts Crest.

“I am unsure as to what you are asking me, my dear,” she stated testily, placing the bracelet in her lap. Her hands clasped over it, obscuring it from his view as she levelled him with a cool gaze. Draco gave a frustrated breath, his arms crossing over his chest.

“Do not play coy, Mother. You know what I am asking, why did Granger’s daughter possess the bracelet that was given to you by grandmother Druella,” he questioned strongly, his voice level and firm. Narcissa looked away from him, gazing over to the dark wood chest against the wall before standing and moving over to open it.

“I have no idea what you are referring to, Draco. My bracelet is stored, as it has been for years, safely,” she avoided his question as she opened the chest, lifting a small, velvet green pouch and showing him an almost identical copy of the bracelet. Narcissa held her breath, waiting for him to take the bait. Her son was no idiot, he would know if she lied to him. So, she had to be incredibly careful with how she bent the truth. “In all honesty, my dear, I did give the child the bracelet. I have met with her many times at functions at the Ministry, and I have found Miss Granger, despite the previous misconceptions of her blood status, to be a very witty and intelligent witch. Her daughter is also of the same nature, and so I gifted her the bracelet out of a healthy respect and like for the child. Nothing more.”

Draco took the bracelets from her, comparing them. “That’s all well and good, mother, but that does not explain why you would bestow a Black family tradition on a child that you just stated you have met a number of times at Ministry functions. It also does not explain why you would give her a bracelet so like the own one you were gifted, one that was specifically charmed to only be worn by one with Black family blood.”

At that, Narcissa was stumped. She held herself tightly, of course, and did not allow it to show, but she ran over the many different responses she could tell him. She investigated her chest and with a warring heart, she lifted a silk-wrapped album and held it out towards Draco. She would not tell him the truth, but she could show him and allow him to draw his own conclusions. This was not her secret to tell.

“Please, Draco, do not lose your temper,” she beseeched, as he took the album from her and handed her back the bracelets. She held them to her chest as she sat down in her chair once more and delicately reached for her tea. Draco stood as he removed the silk wrapping, revealing a leather-bound album. Opening it, he gazed at the first image curiously. It was Granger, when she was 17, clutching a small wriggling bundle to her chest. Her hair was wild, and she had bags under her eyes, but she looked more at peace then he had ever seen her, gazing at the baby in her arms. Turning the page, he saw the next picture. The baby in this one was around the same age as Scorpius, but not by much and she was holding onto Narcissa Malfoy’s fingers as she toddled. His mother had a rare, genuine smile on her face, normally piercing blue eyes alight with glee. She picked up the toddler and placed a kiss on her cheek, spinning her in her arms. Draco’s eyes narrowed on the two, the sharp point of his mother’s nose echoed in the toddler, same dimple his mother had towards the left of her mouth evident on the toddler’s face. The next picture, maybe one year later, saw his mother with the girl as she played teacups, wearing a deep, forest green dress and a matching bow holding up wild platinum curls. She poured a tea using the old English china set he had seen once growing up, that his mother had claimed was destroyed following Voldemort’s invasion of their home. Picture after picture of the girl at different stages of her life. Some where with his mother, some with Granger and her family, and the rare one with both Granger and Narcissa looking proudly on at her as she did some activity.

His face turned up to his mothers, who stared into her tea warily as she avoided his probing gaze. “What is this, mother? I don’t understand,” he queried, falling into the chair opposite hers. She pursed her lips, and then reached for his hand.

“I’m so sorry, my dear… but I cannot tell you. It is not my truth to tell,” she soothed, cupping his pale cheek and softly smoothing her thumb over his skin. It pained her to see the confusion on his face, caused her untold levels of anguish that she could not tell him the truth.

Draco stared down at the album in his hands, confusion gnawing at his stomach. 

Just what was Granger hiding from him?


	4. Kings Cross Station

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione reveals some truths, and Aurora get's ready for her first time on the Hogwarts Express.

_29 th August 2008 – 12:30pm_

Hermione paced her living room, biting on her lip with her hands on her hips. She had sent Aurora to bed an hour ago, under the guise of an early morning for the trip to Kings Cross. She could not stop the feeling of overwhelming panic that was coursing through her, her mind going haywire. Her hair was wild, magic crackling as she paced the hardwood floors. Draco would have spoken to his mother by now, and while she trusted Narcissa not to reveal the truth, she knew it was only a matter of time before he came seeking answers.

The roar of green flames within the fireplace had her spin, when her cousin stepped out of the flames. Charissa looked bedraggled, her hair in a messy bun on top of her head, a large baggy red jumper with a large ‘C’ knitted into the front, black leggings and slippers that looked like bulldog puppies on her feet. She blinked wearily at her cousin, yawning widely as she took in Hermione’s frantic state. 

“Hermione, I have five children, of which only two are over the age of five. This better be an emergency,” she stated tiredly, resting a hand over her miniscule bump. Hermione scowled at her.

“Do you honestly believe that had this not been an emergency, I would have summoned you in the middle of the bloody night,” Hermione snapped, waving her hands in the air. Charissa narrowed her eyes at her cousin. “He knows, Charissa. He knows!”

“Who knows what, Miona,” Charissa questioned, confused and Hermione flopped down onto her couch, her hands covering her face as she gave a muffled groan.

“Malfoy knows that Aurora is his daughter, or at least, he’s going to. He took Aurora’s bracelet when we were in Diagon Alley that Narcissa Malfoy gave her and now he’s going to turn up and ask questions and I don’t know if I am ready to answer them,” Hermione rambled and Charissa’s eyes widened as she shook her head at her cousin.

“Wait… hold up… wait a moment, did you just say that Draco Malfoy is Aurora’s father? As in, Draco Malfoy, Slytherin Prince, ex-deatheater, married to Astoria Greengrass? That Draco Malfoy?” Charissa questioned rapidly, sitting in the plush, cream fabric chair opposite Hermione’s couch. Hermione nodded weakly, pulling one of the throw cushions to her chest and hugging it tightly. Charissa gaped at her, stammering slightly before her mouth snapped shut. “Of course! Of course, Draco is her father. The nose, the chin… the bloody hair! How could I have not realised?”

“It was a mistake, it was a stupid mistake,” Hermione mumbled. Charissa thought for a moment, before standing.

“Okay, well this seems like a Golden Trio operation,” Charissa stated, moving to the fireplace.

And that was how Hermione found herself with a kitchen full of people at 1:00am. Ron leaned against the island in the centre of the kitchen, a mug of coffee steaming in his hand. His hair was wild on his head, his blue eyes drooping and the crusty remnants of drool and toothpaste at the corner of his mouth. He had rocked up in his pyjamas, a grey tank top with red bottoms and he looked to be falling asleep where he stood. Harry and Ginny sat at the dining table, muttering between them. Ginny’s fiery hair was swept into a messy ponytail, wearing a plain red jumper with some black leggings and black pumps on her feet. Harry’s glasses sat crooked on his nose, his hair on end as he sipped tea. Charissa sat opposite them, legs crossed under her on the chair she sat on. Hermione paced between them, biting her lip.

“’Mione, can you just tell us why we’ve been dragged out of bed at stupid o’clock, so I can go back to said bed,” Ron questioned snappily, and Hermione blinked at him. She looked around her friends, the people she regarded as her family, and let out a heavy breath.

“It’s about Aurora,” she started, and had to immediately shush her friends who began to worry about her daughter health. She held up a hand and silenced them. “I know that you’ve all wondered, since you found out I was pregnant, just who her father was.”

The room was silent, so quiet you could hear a pin drop, and Harry was the first to speak. “Yeah, I mean we wanted to know… but we also respected your wish and never mentioned it because it always seemed to upset you when we asked.”

Hermione’s heart swelled at her friend’s care for her, realising how frustrating it must have been for them not to know her secret. She glanced at Ron out the corner of his eye, his expression stormy. Hermione stood, fiddling with her fingers as she spoke. “Some things have happened, and now her father may be coming into the picture a bit more.”

Hermione could see the cogs working in Harry’s head, his eyebrows furrowed as he connected dots, he wasn’t sure connected properly. She had to hand it to her friend, he was not the youngest Head Auror in the Ministry for no reason. He had a habit of finding information and connecting dots that no one else would previously. Ginny clasped her husbands’ hand, giving Hermione a supportive nod to continue.

“So… okay… when we were in sixth year I slept with Malfoy and then I had his baby, but he does not know, because I obliviated him before he woke up. I never told him that I had a baby, but Narcissa Malfoy knows, and now I think Malfoy is going to know because he saw us in Diagon Alley and took a bracelet that Narcissa gave her, and while she won’t tell him, Malfoy is not an idiot and will come questioning,” Hermione blurted out, and stopped with a sharp inhale. The atmosphere in the room chilled rapidly, and out of the corner of her eye she could see Ron’s face turning redder and redder, before he threw the cup he held on the ground sharply. Everyone jumped, as Ron turned on Hermione.

“Malfoy? The bloody git who called you a mudblood for years, who we thought was a Deatheater and you shagged him!? Ron shouted and Hermione glowered at him, standing her ground. “How could you be so stupid, ‘Mione? He’s a fecking git and you just spread your legs for him?”

“Ron! I made a mistake! I did not just ‘spread my legs’! He was hurting, I was upset, and it just happened! It’s not like I made some big plan to go out and deliberately seduce him and get pregnant,” Hermione argued. If steam could have come out of her ears, it would be now. Her ire was raised, and she glared at her best friend with her hands on her hips. Ron threw his hands up in the air.

“A mistake! A mistake she says! The smartest witch in a generation but doesn’t know not to sleep with blood purist gits and get knocked up!” Ron shouted back.

“Don’t you dare talk to me like that, Ronald Weasley! Especially not given that you are the one married to his little wannabe wife!” Hermione snapped and Ron bristled at the mention of his wife, opening his mouth to retort when Ginny slammed her hands onto the table, eyes glowing with rage as she looked between them. The cups on the table rattled, and Charissa rose her eyebrows with a slight smirk, fully aware of the spitfire Ginny Weasley-Potter was when angry.

“Enough! We are in this situation and fighting amongst yourselves is not going to change what has happened, or the wonderful child that came about because of it. Ron, we love Pansy, and you know that and whatever has happened has happened and cannot be changed now. Hermione, you should have told us about this years ago, but you didn’t so please do not get mad that we’re upset that you kept this from us,” Ginny warned them both. Ron glowered at his sister momentarily but backed down and leant against the kitchen island with a thunderous looked. Hermione sighed heavily, accepting Ginny’s words.

She had, so many times over the years, thought about telling her friends the truth but every time she had thought of the disappointed look the Harry would give her and the explosion that would be Ron’s reaction she had been scared to. It had stopped her every time and the longer she left it, the harder it became. She flopped down into a spare chair at the table, putting her head in her hands. She was mirroring Harry exactly before he took a long, deep breath and stared at his friend of 17 years.

Harry could not imagine how hard this had been for her, having this weighing on her for so long. His heart went out to his usually strong, insufferable know-it-all best friend. It hurt that Hermione felt the need to hide this, deeply, but he understood. His relationship with Draco Malfoy was… tenuous at best. They had gone from enemies to him nearly killing Malfoy in sixth year, to Malfoy risking his own life to save his. After the war, they had met a few times. The first meeting had been extremely tense, yet the following meeting had been almost amicable. They were not friends by no means, but he had come to a polite respect for Malfoy.

Hermione swallowed her stress, looking up at her friends with tears in her eyes. “I’m so sorry, really, I am. I have wanted to tell you all so often and I just… I got so scared that if I told you… you would leave me and you would leave her, and she loved you all so much,” Hermione mumbled the last words, her hands clasped under her chin. Ron stared at her, his lips set in a thin line before he huffed a heavy sigh, his shoulders drooping. He moved forward and wrapped his arms around her, giving her a tight squeeze.

“Look, ‘Mione, I’m not saying you’re not a bloody idiot, and he’s not a bloody git, but you are our best friend and we wouldn’t ditch you for nothing,” he assured her. She sniffed, looking up at him with a loving gaze and a soft smile. “And we love Aurora, she’s basically our daughter, Malfoy be fucked!”

“Well, she kind of di-“ Ginny began and Harry gave her a pointed look. Ron glowered at Ginny and Hermione flushed brightly, burying her face in her hands. Charissa heaved herself out of her chair, yawning widely.

“Okay, so now we are all caught up, what’s the plan?” she asked, looking between her friends. Hermione’s brow furrowed momentarily, before she nodded her head.

“So, the plan. Tomorrow, we get Aurora and Teddy on the train off to Hogwarts. Then, I will arrange a meeting with Malfoy to tell him the truth. Once he knows, depending upon his reaction, we will arrange with Professor McGonnagle a time at the weekend in which we will tell Aurora the truth and hopefully, this will not all be blown out of proportion and can be efficiently managed,” Hermione relayed the plan to her closest friends and paused to wait for their feedback. The group cast glances toward each other, before murmuring approval.

\--

_30 th August 2008_

Aurora had woken at six o’clock in the morning, vibrating with excitement and nervousness. She had paced her room, emptying her trunk and packing it again to ensure she had everything she would need for the school year ahead, ticking the items against her Hogwarts list. She had then snuck down the stairs and made some toast and orange juice, surprising Dagna as she pottered about. Dagna was the house-elf that Charissa had gifted them when her mother had begun working at the Ministry. Hermione had argued profusely that she would not own a slave, and had negotiated strict terms of service with Dagna, who had reluctantly agreed that she would take evenings off, accept a galleon wage each month, and had whittled Hermione down to only having to take one week of holidays a year. What Hermione was not aware of, was that during that week off Dagna would go and work at Hogwarts with the House Elves. Hermione had also refused to allow Dagna to work wearing a pillowcase and they had agreed on a uniform between them that Dagna had made. Following Dagna coming to work at the house, Hermione had re-ignited her SPEW campaign at work for the rights of Elfish Welfare.

When her mother had finally woken at eight o’clock, Aurora had rambled to her in excitement and paced the house until Hermione finally stated it was time to go to the station at ten o’clock. Her trunk loaded in the boot of the car, Luria in her cage next to Aurora, Hermione drove them to Kings Cross Station.

Harry was already at the station when Hermione arrived with Aurora, and he gave her a wave as Teddy immediately ran over to Aurora. He had joined Andromeda in taking the blue haired boy to the station, feeling his own reminiscent excitement of when he had first gone to Hogwarts. Thankfully, this time he knew where he was going. Hermione gave Harry a weak smile as she approached, pushing the cart with Aurora’s trunk and owl on it. Tourists pushed around them, chatting to each other and he recognized the look of other parents with their children heading towards the platform.

“How was the trip in?” Harry asked and Hermione shrugged.

“Oh, you know, heavy traffic, excited chatting,” Hermione responded dryly. Harry chuckled. Hermione stopped as they reached the platform, handing the cart over to Aurora. The blond girl looked up at her mother with nervous eyes.

“Now, honey, don’t worry. Walk straight at the barrier and do not stop. In fact, as it’s the first time…”

“Best to do a bit of a run,” Harry finished for her with a grin, remembering Molly Weasley’s words from the first time he had ran to the platform. Teddy and Aurora looked at each other with wide eyes before Teddy squared his shoulders and ran towards the barrier with his cart. After a moment, Harry grinned as his godson disappeared and gave Hermione a wave as he followed him through. Aurora looked up to her mother with fearful eyes.

“Mom, I’m scared. What if I don’t make any friends?” Aurora whispered and Hermione gave her a gentle look, bending down to her daughter’s height. She clasped Aurora’s hand in hers tightly.

“You are a smart, kind and brave girl, Aurora. Even if you do not make friends right away, I know you are going to meet some people that will change your life, and you will never want to leave. I promise, by the end of the school year, you will be dreading the summer holidays because you will not want leave your friends,” Hermione promised, and Aurora still looked nervous, before throwing her arms around her mothers neck.

“I will always want to come home to you, Mom,” Aurora whispered. Then she took a deep breath, furrowed her eyebrows and gripped the cart. With a sharp nod of her head, she ran at the barrier and vanished. Hermione took a deep breath, feeling her heart swell with pride while her stomach knotted with nervousness for her daughter and then followed Aurora to the platform.

Hermione could not prepare herself for the nostalgia that swept over her at the sight of the Hogwarts Express, smoke puffing overhead, the parents and students rushing around and shouting between each other. Hermione sucked on her bottom lip, an old feeling of home sweeping over her, before she pushed through the crowd to where her daughter was.

“Come on then, honey, time to find your seat,” she stated giving Aurora a slight push towards the train and Aurora looked up at her with wide eyes, before grabbing Luria and climbing up the steps into the carriage. .

“I love you Mom! I’ll see you at Christmas!” Aurora shouted from her compartment window once her trunk was on the train. Hermione waved as the train whistled, and Aurora waved back furiously before being distracted from with the compartment.

“I love you too,” Hermione whispered, clasping her hands to her chest as the train began to pull out of the station. She felt an arm drop around her shoulders and looked up at Harry. He gave her a half smile and Hermione rested her head on his shoulder. “I can’t pretend I wish she was still a baby, so I could keep her wrapped up and safe.”

“I mean… we were fighting a war when she was a baby, so it wasn’t all that safe…” Harry joked, and Hermione smacked him on the chest playfully.

“You know what I mean!” she scowled, and Harry laughed as they left Platform 9 and ¾, his arm still around her shoulders.

“Do you think they’ll be okay?” Harry asked and Hermione gave small shrug.

“I think they will be just fine,” Hermione responded.

\--

Aurora sat in her compartment nervously, pulling on the hem of her jumper as she looked out the window at the passing fields full of sheep. Luria snoozed happily in her cage, every so often ruffling her feathers in her sleep. Teddy sat on the seats opposite, his legs stretched along the seat and a book in his hand. He was seemingly far-more relaxed then her, but she could tell from the white tips of his hair and the fact that his page hadn’t turned since the book was opened that A knock on the compartment door caused her to look up, and she saw a bright-eyed girl with dark braided hair looking back at her eagerly.

“Hi! Is there any space in this compartment? I’ve been looking for a seat for an age!” she asked, and Aurora gave a shy nod. The girl pushed in, already in her robes and plopped down into the seat next to Aurora, holding out her hand. “My name is Belladonna Greenwood, what’s your name?”

“I’m Aurora Hallows, and this is Teddy,” Aurora said, gesturing at Teddy after shaking the other girls hand. He put his book down for a moment, gave a wee wave and then hid behind the book again, however the tips of his hair had started to meld back to blue. Belladonna frowned for a moment, before her eyes widened.

“Wait a minute, Hallows as in the Hallows family? Founding family of the Ministry of Magic?” Belladonna asked, and Aurora pursed her lips. She had never been 100% on the full history of the Hallows family, she knew the family tree in the Hallows Mansion went back three hundred years, but there was so many members of the family she had never taken the time to go through the whole history. Belladonna carried n without waiting for a response. “So, do you know what house you think you’ll get? I know everybody want’s Gryffindor, but I think it is so overrated! I mean, who wants to go rushing into being brave all the time? I much prefer the idea of being in Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw. But you do not want to be in Slytherin you know, You-know-who was in Slytherin. I know that it is apparently not all bad witches and wizards, but you have to wonder when you think about that.”

“You know, my Godfather is Harry Potter,” Teddy stated, turning in his seat. Belladonna gaped at him with a quick shout of ‘No Way’ and Teddy nodded, reaching into his backpack and pulling out a picture of the two. Aurora mouthed ‘Thank you’ at him as Belladonna launched into a tirade of questions about the Chosen One, and he gave her a sly smile before responding to Belladonna. Excusing herself for a moment, Aurora picked up her robes from her trunk and headed for a toilet.

A small queue of other kids her age had formed, and she stopped behind another girl with mousy brown hair cut into a bob and glasses on the end of her nose. She was clutching her robes to her chest her eyes wide as she took in the other children around her. She seemed to fold into herself, trying to make herself even smaller. Aurora frowned and tapped her on the shoulder. The girl jumped, giving a slight shriek and spun to face Aurora.

“What-what do you want?” she asked, with a high voice.

“I just wanted to see if you were okay. You looked a little freaked out. I’m Aurora,” Aurora responded, and the girl gave her a weak smile.

“I’m Kimberley Johnston. So, you are a pureblood? Right? I noticed all the purebloods have really weird names,” the girl said, and then flushed with embarrassment. “Oh god, that probably sounded really insensitive, I’m so sorry.”

Aurora laughed at her. “No, you are completely right. They do have really weird names,” Aurora said in agreement and Kimberley smiled thankfully at her.

After another hour or so, the train finally slowed and stopped. Aurora’s stomach fluttered as she stepped out on the platform with Teddy, Belladonna close behind them with Kimberley trailing slightly behind.

“Firs’ yers this way! Firs’ years over here!” the familiar voice of Hagrid called out to the small students, ushering them towards a steep narrow path. After ensuring they were all gathered, he ushered them down the dark path, trees towering overhead. Following an extremely nervous journey across the Great Lake, under a tunnel and up a passageway, the First Years were all gathered in front of a large oak front door. The door swung open and an annoyed looking older man in deep green robes swept through them.

Aurora grabbed hold of Teddy’s hand squeezing tightly and he smiled at her lightly, before looking at the woman.

“Good Evening, First Years, and welcome to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I am Professor Lamont, head of Slytherin House. The houses you will soon be sorted to are Slytherin, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Gryffindor. While you are here, should you do well and succeed, your house will receive points for your success and should you fail or break the school rules, you will lose points. The house with the most points will be awarded the greatest honor, the House Cup. Now, get yourself ready and look decent, for you will now be sorted into your houses. Follow!” he commanded tersely before sweeping into the Great Hall, swinging the doors open.

The students following hurriedly, barely given a moment before they had rush between the tables, under black ceiling with shining stars dotted across it. Four long tables with other students in their black robes surrounded them, and at another long table across the front of the room sat the teachers, the ever-stern Headmistress, Professor McGonnagle sitting at the heart.

A wooden stool sat in front of the table, with a pointed, frayed and dirty hat sat on the stool. Silence reigned, as everyone gazed at the hat, which seemed to stretch itself and began to sing.

_"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,_

_But don't judge on what you see,_

_I'll eat myself if you can find_

_A smarter hat than me._

_You can keep your bowlers black,_

_Your top hats sleek and tall,_

_For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat_

_And I can cap them all._

_There's nothing hidden in your head_

_The Sorting Hat can't see,_

_So try me on and I will tell you_

_Where you ought to be._

_You might belong in Gryffindor,_

_Where dwell the brave at heart,_

_Their daring, nerve, and chivalry_

_Set Gryffindors apart;_

_You might belong in Hufflepuff,_

_Where they are just and loyal,_

_Those patient Hufflepuffs are true_

_And unafraid of toil;_

_Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw, if you've a ready mind,_

_Where those of wit and learning,_

_Will always find their kind;_

_Or perhaps in Slytherin_

_You'll make your real friends,_

_Those cunning folk use any means_

_To achieve their ends._

_So put me on! Don't be afraid!_

_And don't get in a flap!_

_You're in safe hands (though I have none)_

_For I'm a Thinking Cap!"_

The room erupted in applause, and Aurora clapped along eagerly, looking at Teddy with a wide grin. Professor Lamont sneered slightly, before giving a sharp cough as he held a long list. After a moment of explanation on how they would be called before he began to call out names. When he called out Belladonna’s name, Aurora felt her stomach twist knowing that names beginning with ‘H’ where next. She was promptly sorted into Ravenclaw and she happily skipped to the table as the other Ravenclaw’s cheered.

“Hallows, Aurora!”

Aurora swallowed nervously and made her way up to the stool. Once she was sat, the hat was placed on her head.

“Interesting, aren’t we. Quite a while since I have been slightly curious of a student. Ravenclaw, you would do well in, a level of smarts I have not seen in a long while… but another part speaks to me, a secret you may not even know…” a soft voice whispered to her, and Aurora’s breath hitched. “Yes, I see it now, a level of pride high and cunning true… I believe it must be…”

Aurora held her breath.

“SLYTHERIN!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay! So I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. Please leave reviews, it gives me life. 
> 
> I apologise for the delay in receiving this, and that the last couple have been so short, but I do hope you enjoy this chapter.


	5. The Benefit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione attends the Benefit for the Victims of the War at the Ministry of Magic.

3rd September 2008 – 11:30am

Draco had been holed up in his mother’s office for four days, running on a total of 5 hours sleep across those days. He had paced the length of the office nearly 100 times, had flicked through the photo album assessing every image, scrutinising every detail, more than 100 times and had drunk at least two bottles of firewhiskey trying to wrack his brain to understand what exactly his mother had been alluding to. His mother had checked in on him the first two days, deeply concerned for her son, but after the second time he had thrown a glass she had decided giving him his space was the best course. On the fourth day, he had decided it was time to snap out of it. After a quick floo to Blaise, instructing to meet him at the Leaky Cauldron, he strode from the room with the album tucked under his arm.

By the time he entered the Leaky Cauldron, having shaved and bathed for the first time in days, wearing a black suit, with his hair swept back from his eyes, Draco could feel some sort of plan formulating in his mind. He had to sit down with Granger and get the information from her. Based upon their history, it was unlikely she would willingly talk to him, however that was where he decided he could bring in Blaise. A fundraising benefit for victims of the War was to be held by the Ministry of Magic that evening and as Ministry employees, both he and Granger would be in attendance. As Astoria was indisposed, taking Blaise as a guest would be not unexpected.

Blaise sat in a dark corner, his charcoal suit perfectly fitted over a satin green shirt, two glass tumblers of firewhiskey waiting on the table. His dark eyes watched his friend as he approached, calculating and shrewd. Blaise was not a stupid man, by any means. He could tell his friend was rattled just by the way his friend strode towards the table. The confidence of his usual gait was not faded, his head was ducked slightly as he avoided the eyes of every other witch and wizard in the pub. If Blaise didn’t know any better, he would believe his friend was trying to hide who he was, but Draco still had the tendency to be slightly arrogant in himself. Blaise gave a curt nod of the head and gestured to the faded red chair opposite him for Draco to sit.

“Well, old friend, what prompts this sudden summons?” Blaise drawled, with an almost bored indifference. Draco arched an eyebrow at his old friend, before reaching into his cloak and pulling the album out. Blaise hid his curiosity well, as Draco pushed the album towards him and reached for a tumbler of firewhiskey. After a deliberate moment, Blaise reached for the album and casually flipped it open. As he flipped through it, Draco could see frown lines appearing on his friend’s forehead, a slight scowl appearing on his face. “Just why am I looking at pictures of the Gryffindor Princess and her daughter? And why does your mother appear to be in large number of them?”

His tone had taken on a slight level of curiosity, less than amount Blaise felt. He had met Granger’s daughter, when he had briefly worked at the Ministry before branching out on his own into the antique’s business. The offices for the department he had worked in were near the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, and the young girl had often appeared at night when someone had dropped her off to Hermione. She was a curious thing, smart and stubborn like her mother, but she carried herself with a level of confidence that Granger never had. She spoke to everybody she met, and that had included Blaise. He hadn’t been all that eager to speak to her, having just dropped into the office to pick up some woman for dinner, but she had insisted on capturing his attention with large brown eyes and wild hair tied in pigtails.

“My mother has had a continued dalliance with Granger and the child. One she refuses to explain,” Draco responded tersely. Blaise’s eyebrows raised. “So, I intend to ask the witch tonight exactly what the nature of her relationship is with my mother, and why this child is so significant.”

Blaise leaned back in his chair, his fingertips touching as he pondered his friend. “And you want my help with accosting her at the benefit.”

“She will not willingly speak to me, but I understand you have spoken with her previously. She may be a smug know-it-all, but she has manners and if you ask to speak with her, she will not refuse out of politeness,” Draco stated. Blaise made small noise akin to laughter, before levelling Draco with a dark stare.

“What, pray-tell, makes you believe Miss Granger is willing to speak to either of us?” Blaise asked, and Draco smirked.

“Well, if it pertains to her precious House Elves, I sure she will be more than willing. Say you tell her you have information on a family not obeying the newly instated regulations regarding the treatment and she will follow like a seeker on a snitch,” Draco sneered and Blaise made positive noise, with a small nod of his head.

“Very well, Draco. I believe we have a plan,” Blaise said, before taking a sip of firewhiskey smoothly.

\--

3rd September 2008 18:15pm

Hermione sighed heavily to herself and then winced at a particularly painful tug on her hair. Behind her was a grumble of ‘No, you will behave!’ from her cousin. Charissa was already dressed and ready for the benefit, wearing a floor-length velvet, forest green gown with golden embroidered vines along a tulle over-layer of the A-Line skirt. Her dark hair was pinned behind her ears, with the rest falling in a waterfall of curls down her back. Now she was ready, she was pulling Hermione’s mane into a textured French twist, using a barrage of hairspray, hair pins and finally, a well-placed silver barrette. 

“Right, get that dress on and we will head to the Ministry. It would be terribly unfortunate if one of the main benefactors for the benefit were late,” Charissa stated, moving away from her. The dress she was referring to was a simple, floor length black velvet off-the-shoulder gown, with slit from the hem to mid-thigh. After a moment, Charissa paused, pulling on long white gloves. “And don’t forget the gloves!”

Hermione rolled her eyes at her cousin’s fussing.

“When have you ever known me to forget something,” Hermione queried. Charissa rose her eyebrows at her cousin, who gave her a dark look before swishing from the room in a flurry of tulle and velvet. Hermione eyed her reflection with a slight smile. She couldn’t deny that her cousin had done well with her hair and make-up.

She dressed swiftly before heading down the stairs. Charissa was fussing with the straps of her heels and looked up at her when she approached. With a quirk of her lips, she made a low whistle.

“You look exquisite, Miona,” Charissa said and Hermione flushed, still not used to compliments that were not regarding her intelligence. “Now, get a move on, we are going to be late.”

The Benefit was in full swing when the two arrived, and despite the number of the events she had been to, Hermione still felt out of place. Laughter and music swept through the ballroom, fires burning high in gargantuan ornate fireplaces, the ceiling was enchanted so remarkably like Hogwarts with the night sky and large round tables with white tablecloths surrounding a dancefloor with low mist. Large glass doors to one side of the room opened to a garden area with towering willows and fireflies dancing through the sky.

Some of the guests were dancing on the dancefloor, others at the bar procuring drinks and some, like Hermione, were sitting alone at the tables, wishing they were anywhere but at the benefit. With Charissa away socialising with other guests, Hermione was left alone nursing her drink, wondering why she had even agreed to attend this event.

It was a worthy cause, yet every time she looked at the decorations, at the people laughing, she was struck by a pain in her chest. She was reminded of the years of nightmares, of Ginny calling her in the middle of the night when Harry had woken with a headache and had begun panicking that Voldemort was back. She thought of the end of her relationship with one, when she had turned away from him to be a good mother but had struggled to maintain her own sanity as she had continuous flashbacks of being tortured on the cold marble floor of Malfoy Manor, to the horror of being on the run, of fighting in a war and seeing her friends fall and die. Her conversations with Narcissa after the event had been difficult enough. She had fought panic attack, and the first night she had cried herself to sleep as she relived the experience which Narcissa had, in her own way, expressed her sorrow and regret for.

While she felt the event was worthy, she could not help but feel bitter at the hilarity of the guests, as the entire thing still felt so raw for her. Hermione had seen the lost looks in Harry’s eyes at times, the way Ginny never wore open-back dresses to hide her scars, how George had spent years a shell of himself. No one had come out of the war whole, but they all pretended they were okay. Harry pretended he didn’t cry into his wife’s lap after a particularly bad mission hunting down remaining Deatheaters, Hermione pretended she didn’t have nightmares any longer, didn’t hunt for her daughter in the middle of the night for fear she had been taken or hurt and Ron pretended that he didn’t feel the pit of anger and jealousy that had held him when wearing the locket. He pretended that at time, he didn’t resent his wife for her part in the battle of Hogwarts, and Pansy pretended that she wasn’t trying to both avoid and make up for it whenever she attended family functions, or cared for her daughter Rose.

Taking a long swig of her drink, Hermione closed her eyes for a moment before feeling movement next to her. Her fingers tightened around the glass, the thoughts swirling around her head putting her instantly on edge. Opening her eyes, she took in the suavely dressed form of Blaise Zabini, a smirk on his dark lips. “Oh, Blaise, I did not realise you were attending this event.”

“You wound me, Lady Hallows. I would never miss an event held in honour of the victims of the war,” Blaise drawled, and Hermione swallowed her biting retort, keeping her expression neutral. Blaise swirled the ice in his glass as he regarded her. “I actually approached you for a more personal matter, that I wished to discuss with you in a more private setting.”

Hermione raised her eyebrows, gesturing for him to continue. He could not believe she would go anywhere alone with him, seriously? Blaise sensed her hesitation and leaned forward.

“It’s regarding certain families and rumours of their…. Lack of compliance with certain House Elf regulations,” Blaise said, keeping his voice low so only she could hear. Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, assessing his features. She could not read any tone of a lie in his voice, and while she was wary, if he had intelligence of Purebloods mistreating their House Elves and breaking regulation, she wanted to hear it. After a deep breath, she nodded. Blaise gave her a disarmingly charming smile, and she was struck by how handsome he was as he offered her his arm.

That surprised her, his willingness to allow her to touch him as she accepted his arm and he led her towards the vestibule of the ball room. He did not speak to her, and she looked around the room to see if anyone noticed them leaving. No one had noticed, too caught up in their own revelry and enjoyment. Hermione swallowed her fear, reminding herself over and over that they were no longer at war, that things had changed, but couldn’t deny the pit in her stomach was still present as he led her to an empty side room. She dropped his arm, turning to face him and stopped short when Draco Malfoy stepped from behind the door to the room. Her breath left her, and se cast a dark glare at Blaise.

“I do apologise for my deception, Lady Hallows,” he drawled, with an entirely unapologetic tone, before he left the room. The door slammed shut behind him with a dull thud. Malfoy regarded her with slight contempt and Hermione steeled herself against his glare. The room was mostly empty, barring a small round table between them and some covered chairs to the side of the room. Malfoy strode towards her, and she forced herself to stay where she stood as he stopped at the table and dropped a book on the table.

Hermione stared at the book, at the familiar leather binding and engravings, before taking a deep breath and looking at him. “What can I help you with, Malfoy?” She ground out, with considerably more fight then she felt.

“I want you to tell me exactly what this is and why you have such a close relationship with my mother, Witch,” Malfoy growled. Hermione reached for the album, running her fingers over the embossed leather. Her eyes were cast downwards, avoiding Malfoy’s gaze. “Now, Granger.”

“You know, using such a hostile tone does not make me feel inclined at all to share any information regarding my daughter or my relationship with your mother,” Hermione snapped at him. Malfoy sneered at her.

“I don’t feel like being particularly civil to the damned witch who is clearly hiding something from me,” Malfoy snarled. Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, picking up the album and turning away from him. She took a long breath, closing her eyes as she pushed down the burst of fire that had erupted within her from being cornered, before turning back to him. His piercing grey eyes were focused on her, and Hermione inhaled deeply as she took him in. He was immaculately dressed, his charcoal suit perfectly fitted over a silver shirt, black robes draped over his suit and his platinum hair swept back from his face. She could not pretend that he had not become a truly handsome man over the years, his features sharp and angled, almost symmetrical. His form still held the strength from his younger days of Quidditch. He had obviously continued to play, even as an adult. However, his eyes held a jaded dullness to them, creases very lightly marked his face from years of scowling and worry. For a moment, Hermione could feel the tiredness that seemed to hold in his stance, intertwined his usual arrogance and pride.

She could continue to fight, but really there was no point. She would still have to tell him and antagonising him immediately before telling him did not seem a wise choice. “You are right, I have been hiding something from you. Something that… that I was wrong to keep secret.”

Malfoy blinked, not having expected her to back down so easily. His posture stayed defensive, but he held his tongue as she reached to her ankle, pulling her wand out of its holder. His wand was in his hand almost instantly, slipping down from inside of his sleeve into his palm.

“I’m not going to hex you, Malfoy. But for you to understand what I am to tell you, there is a spell I must reverse,” Hermione said, her tone soft. Malfoy scowled, but remained silent as she pointed her wand at him. She had, for two years after the war, devoted part of her time to recovering the lost memories of her parents. Eventually, after despairing for days, she had figured out a way to reverse the spell and restore what had been lost.

“Reminiscor.”

\--

Draco felt like he vaguely like he had been run over by the Hogwarts Express when the spell hit him. Whirls of events swirling in his mind and he had to put a head to his hand as his temples throbbed with the onslaught of long-forgotten kisses, of Hermione’s body against his, of how her skin tasted under his lips. Visions of them wrapped up together, his shirt thrown open, her lips on his neck plagued his mind and he stumbled backwards as the world tilted on its axis. Granger moved towards him, biting on her bottom lip and he was suddenly thrust back to when it was him biting on said lip, his hands in her hair as he kissed her.

“I… I could not let you remember, Malfoy. Everything was so complicated. Harry was convinced you were a Deatheater, which you were, and if he had found out, or if you had ever mentioned it… I would have lost everything,” Granger rambled, and he gave her a dark look. His heart felt like it was ripping in his chest. That one moment, that could have changed everything, that could have stopped him from fixing that blasted cabinet, that could have stopped him from confronting Dumbledore. That moment of just pure… kindness and desperation, of feeling something other than hatred and fear when he had needed that most and she had savagely ripped that from him. She had deliberately hidden from him one of the few good things he had ever done in his life. She had taken from him something that, deep inside him, he had always wanted and hated himself for.

The pieces began to fall into place. Granger’s eleven-year-old daughter, his mother’s maintained relationship with them both, the way Granger had avoided him since the war. He had always assumed it was because of his affiliation with Voldemort, despite how he protected them in the end, despite the fact the word ‘Mudblood’ had not passed his lips after seeing it carved into her arm. He leaned against the wall behind him, his head bowed. Hermione clutched the album to her chest, staring at him. Draco finally lifted his head to look at her, his gaze colder than he had ever given her in school. It revealed no emotion, just raw hatred.

“You kept this from me, for nearly twelve years, witch. This is not just some simple little secret; you deliberately kept a child from me. You erased my memory and let me… you left me lying on a floor, and then you hid my own flesh and blood from me,” he said, his voice icy. Hermione swallowed, looking away from him. She couldn’t take how he was looking at her. He had never looked at her this way, and she couldn’t pretend that it didn’t hurt. Him calling her ‘mudblood’ in second year was nothing compared to how he was looking at her now. Draco sneered at her. “What was it? Couldn’t take the high princess of Gryffindor was sullied by the Slytherin Deatheater? Didn’t want to admit to your precious friends that you were damaged goods? That you were no longer their pure, nerdy _mudblood_?”

The last word was hissed at her, a look of pure disgust marring his handsome features. Hermione visibly recoiled from him, the word searing her very heart. She glowered at him and he sneered at her.

“What, the precious little witch doesn’t like being called out on her filthy little secrets?”

“I’ve already admitted I was wrong, Malfoy. Your attacks mean nothing to me,” Hermione spat, steeling herself against his words. His teeth bared slightly at her, a snarl on his lips as he went to retort. “NO! Enough. I will not listen to you anymore. My daughter… our daughter… is one of the greatest, and one of the best mistakes that I have ever made, and I will not allow you to degrade me for keeping her secret. You were the enemy, Malfoy, and I had to protect her from every part of that life. I should have told you after the war, yes, but I was protecting her and only her. I do not give two flying fucks about my own reputation.”

Draco stared at her. Some of the curls had fallen loose from her hair and fire burned in he eyes as she glared at him. He went to retort, when a sharp scream caused him to stop short, his head spinning towards the door. The scream had come from the main ballroom, and was not the only one as the sound of people running, screaming and spells being cast began to filter into the room they were in. Hermione’s eyes widened over his should and she ran towards the door, her wand in her hand. He grabbed her arm, pulling her towards him.

“Don’t Granger. You don’t know what is out there,” he hissed. Hermione growled at him, ripping her arm from his grasp.

“We can’t just leave them!” she snarled, and Draco held up a hand.

“I will go. You stay here, stay hidden. Aurora does not need to lose two parents in one night,” he retorted, and Hermione inhaled sharply, her eyes widening as he pushed past her and through the door. It closed sharply behind him, leaving Hermione alone in the dark room behind him.

Draco’s eyes took in the chaos before him rapidly before a spell was thrown his way and he was forced to duck for cover. He dove behind a table near the archway and cast his gaze over the top hesitantly. A swam of black robed figures were moving amongst the tables, wands raised, and curses being thrown at the guests who were running from them. He could see the formidable form of Fenrir Greyback prowling, a gleeful smile on his face as he tore through the guests, shedding their skin and removing chunks of flesh from them.

He felt something hit him, and turned briefly to see Hermione next to him, a glower on his face.

“Do not leave me behind again, Malfoy,” she hissed at him, and he scowled at her as she snuck under the table, hidden by the tablecloth. She shifted carefully between the chair legs and the table legs, Draco following behind her. With a slight movement, she lifted the tablecloth and pointed her wand at one of the nearer Deatheaters. Without a sound, a spell fired from her wand and the nearest Deatheater hit the ground, stunned.

Malfoy rolled his eyes at her briefly, and Hermione gave a small smirk as she leaped out from the table, firing hexes and stunning spells as quickly as she could at the masked black figures. A pang of fear coiled in her stomach as she did so, but she squashed it down as Draco suddenly leapt at her.

“Get down!” he yelled, and Hermione was sent tumbling to the floor as Draco pushed her to the ground. Hermione barely caught what happened next, as Fenrir Greyback swiped his claws along Draco, sending blood spurting over her as Draco fell to another slash of Fenrir’s claws. Hermione pointed her wand quickly; fear lashing at her heart and fired a spell at the werewolf. Her heart hammered in her chest as the werewolf fell to the ground, Draco falling also. Blood pooled around him as he did so, and he coughed, blood dribbling down his chin.

Hermione scrambled towards Draco; her eyes wide as she tried to cast a quick healing charm on his body. The wound fought to knit together, and Hermione couldn’t stop the sob that tore from her throat. Draco blinked up at her, his gaze going blurry as she tried to apply pressure to the various tears in his flesh. He opened his mouth to say something, the world darkening at the edges as Aurors began to apparate into the venue, casting spells above their head as they fought the now leaving Deatheaters.

Draco’s eyes slipped shut, and Hermione had to squash a scream as she felt his breathing slow rapidly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading everyone! Please review, its one of the few things that gives me motivation to continue writing.


	6. Authors Note

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Authors Note

Just a quick note, I have not given up on this story. 

Adult life turns out to make writing much harder, especially with the current situation that is the pandemic. I am still working on the next chapter, yet have re-written this several times. 

Hopefully, it should be out soon!


	7. And The Rain Poured...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I apologise for the delay, Christmas and Lockdown the Third really took it out of me. I know this chapter was short, but it felt right to have the reactions of the core group, to see how they processed the news really be felt. 
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed the chapter, please leave reviews of what you thought, or any queries you have.

3rd September 2008 – 22:15pm

Hermione paced the waiting room in St Mungo’s, biting down on her lip. After the Aurors had swept in the Death Eaters had quickly dispersed, with only the stunned ones being captured and arrested. Hermione remained near Malfoy, keeping the blood from pouring from his face, his chest, until he was whisked away by the Healers from St. Mungo’s. From the injuries she has seen on Malfoy, there would be permanent scarring across his face. Harry had momentarily checked her over before ushering her from the scene, his role has Head Auror overriding his increasing worry for his friend. Hermione’s stomach was twisted, her heart heavy in her chest.

Her mind worked the event over, trying to bring together the details. Death Eaters attacked a Ministry event. That meant they had to have someone working within the Ministry to get them into the building or had to have been guests at the event itself. The security for the event was heavy, with a specific charm placed on the door where only Ministry officials or guests with a specific invitation to the event where able to get into the ball room. A groan escaped her lip. Which meant almost a quarter of the Wizarding World would have been able to get into the building without any alarms going off, as the Ministry of Magic was the largest employer in the British Wizarding World.

She was wrenched from her musings when she realized she was being run towards. Narcissa Malfoy rushed towards her, her clothes slightly mussed and hair in a hazardous bun, tendrils of silvery blond hair falling around her face. In her arms was a sleepy-faced Scorpius, his face puffy and red from having been hastily swept up to get to St Mungo’s. Her eyes were wide, and Hermione could see the fear radiating of her.

“My son, how is my son?” Narcissa hastily asked as she approached Hermione. Hermione’s shoulders drooped as she placed a placating hand on Narcissa’s arm.

“He’s with the Healers, Narcissa. They’re doing everything they can, but I haven’t heard anything yet,” Hermione said, trying to keep her tone even and calm. While there was no love lost between her and Malfoy, she could not pretend she had not been terrified seeing him lying in a pool of his own blood. She also could not pretend she did not empathize with Narcissa as a mother. If it were Aurora in this position, she would tear Heaven and Earth apart to know if she was safe. Narcissa’s head dropped, and then she stared at Hermione with extreme determination. With a swift ‘Hold him’ she handed Scorpius to Hermione and swept away to find a nurse who could give her some information. Scorpius gurgled in surprise at the sudden shifting and blinked up at Hermione with wide blue eyes.

Hermione heaved a heavy sigh and gazed down at the small boy in her arms.

“I believe your Nanna is on a mission,” Hermione stated, and Scorpius blinked before saying ‘Na-Na’ chirpily, his hands reaching for the tendrils of hair that had escaped from Hermione’s French Twist. Hermione smiled softly at the young boy, before fear began to grip and she could not stop herself from hugging the two-year old to her chest tightly.

There was a new threat coming and she would be damned if it were the children who would have to fight it. She would not let anything happen to them.

\--

Harry sat at his desk, rubbing his hand over his jade green eyes wearily. A small glass of fire-whiskey sat to his left, a stack of files to his right. On his desk sat an open report, with the code ‘I _NC124578 – Azkaban Escape’_ marked across the heading. They had locked up the ball room, capturing and arresting 5 of the attackers, hunting the rest who had escaped. Aurors were scouring the streets, hunting the Death Eaters who had escaped.

The guilt of having to neglect his best friend to do his job weighed heavily on his heart, but what was done had to be done. He had had the Azkaban escape on his mind for the last month. The department had, by some miracle, kept the escape out of the press. They had kept it quiet as they had searched for the 22 escapees, all previous Death Eaters under Voldemort. Someone had organized the escape, had worked with the Prison Guards to get the Death Eaters out of the prison. Harry took a sip of his whisky. There was someone new out there, someone rallying the Death Eaters to Voldemort’s cause. Someone who was rallying the disenchanted, the ones who had ‘fell’ following the war, who had been tarnished from working with Voldemort. The Aurors had been monitoring them for the last two years. Slowly, not so quick to cause any suspicion at first, the Aurors had noticed the allies disappearing underground, seemingly vanishing from the face of the Wizarding World.

Harry had ordered an investigation, but nothing was ever found. It was as if they had simply vanished. It had drove Harry to near madness when the break-out occurred. Movements were happening, forces were gathering, and Harry could feel the darkness spreading throughout the Wizarding World. And he was helpless to stop it. Nothing he did recovered any information, and this latest attack on the Ministry was so brazen, it felt out of character.

It was like they wanted him to know they were out there, waiting for their chance to strike. They had killed three wizards in this attack, but from what he had gathered from the witnesses they had not been firing to kill. They had been using torture spells, but only a couple of the attackers had used the killing curse.

Greyback, who had once again managed to get away, had done the most damage. He had torn shreds of everyone he could, and the ballroom had been painted with the blood of his victims. Harry shuddered, remembering the metallic smell of the room, his stomach turning. It was not often he found rooms splattered with blood and people ripped to shreds. He was still close enough with the Muggle World, his department working with the Muggle Police on ‘unusual’ cases, to know deaths in the Wizarding World left a much cleaner looking scene. He flipped the file closed and sat back in his chair. No, they had deliberately left witnesses, left people to tell the story of what had happened. This was emotional warfare, a terror attack.

He had no idea what was happening, who was gathering the Death Eaters, who was behind this all. He did not even have the horror that was the pain in his scar whenever Voldemort was around. That would at least give him some clue, but he was in the dark. Harry could not even be sure who to trust within the Ministry, because for the attack to even have happened they had to have been either Ministry Employees or guests of the fundraiser.

He sighed heavily, running his hands through his hair.

Something was coming, and he had no idea how to stop it.

\--

Ron Weasley sat at the kitchen table in the Burrow, his wife to his left and his mother to his right. Rain poured from the heavens outside, the sky dark and threatening. Occasionally, the crash of thunder and flash of lightening caused Molly to jump, her nerves scattered. They had seen the news of the attack in an emergency announcement. It had stunned Pansy, her face paling to a gray colour as she had fell into a chair at the table. Ron had gone ominously silent, his face shadowing as the memories of the previous war placed through his head. The feeling of the Horcrux around his neck seemed to choke him, despite the years that had passed.

The nightmares had never left. They had lessened somewhat, but he still had horrific dreams of his brother’s death, of the visions the Horcrux had given him, of being completely taken over by darkness. Pansy still at times found him lurking in the kitchen of their home in the dark, flicking the lighter left to him by Dumbledore on and off again.

Molly’s eyes never left the clock on the wall, the names of her children spread out across the different areas. Her eyes caught Fred’s hand, settled on ‘Lost’ as it had been for the last 10 years. She had never had the heart to remove it from the clock, feeling it would be a betrayal to her troublesome, meddling son. Her breath caught in her throat and she blinked back tears. A moment later, she felt a hand on hers and looked up at her daughter-in-law with watery eyes. Pansy swallowed the lump in her throat, her lips pursed as she tried to fight her own tears and her own distress.

Ron gazed up when he heard small footsteps, and saw his yawning daughter appear at the foot of the stairs. Rose blinked blearily at him, cuddling her stuffed teddy Niffler to her chest.

“Daddy, der wa’abang, pwease tuck in?” the two-year-old mumbled, plodding over to him. The darkness that seemed to consume him lifted as he gazed at his little girl and he bent down to pick up her up. Cuddling her to his chest. Pansy watched them with a soft gaze, her free hand resting over her stomach as Ron took their daughter up the stairs again.

Molly sighed heavily, feeling her heart clench. She was not sure if she could survive another war. So much of her life had been fighting, living in fear of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and now it was not just her children on the line. It was the nineteen grandchildren she had managed to accumulate in the last 11 years. The last thing she wanted was her grandchildren having to live and fight in a war like her children had to. This was supposed to be a time of peace.

\--

Ginny stood in the doorway to her son’s bedroom, gazing at the six-year-old and three-year-old sleeping peacefully. Well, James was snoring away with one leg dangling off the edge of his bed, while Albus had somehow moved onto his front with his knees tucked under him, his butt in the air. Her jaw was set, her eyes hard and her fiery hair was swept into a high ponytail. She was ready. She would take down anyone who threatened her family, and she would do it with extreme prejudice. There was no fear left in her, not after the last war. If it came to a battle, she would win.

A slight whimper came through the baby-monitor and she straightened, moving through to Lily’s room where the one-year-old was in her crib. As she opened the door, she saw the fiery haired girl holding onto the bars of the crib, chewing on one of them with teary eyes. Teething had been a nightmare with Lily Luna. While the two boys had been settled with some Rusks and Orojel (muggle medicine that Ginny felt was a lifesaver), Lily was struggling each time she started to cut a tooth.

“Oh, baby girl, you having a rough night?” Ginny said softly, as she moved over to the crib and lifted Lily into her arms. Lily snuggled into her mom, opening and closing her mouth until Ginny picked up the plastic teething ring and gave it to her. Swiftly, Lily began gnawing on the ring, drool dribbling down her chin. Her freckled cheeks were red, but she stopped whimpering as Ginny sat in the old, white painted rocking chair in the corner of the room.

“Don’t you worry, baby girl, I’ve got you. I will not let anything happen to you,” she whispered, kissing the top of the toddlers head as she gazed out the window into the night. Not a thought was given to the wand she clutched in her hand as she rocked her daughter back to sleep, or the hardness that settled into her heart as the rain hammered against the frosted glass panes.

Ginny was ready. There was nothing that would hurt her, or her children, ever again.


	8. Waking Up

_12 th September 2008 _

2 days after starting her first term at Hogwarts, Aurora and Teddy had snuck out after curfew and got their respective houses docked 20 points.

5 days after starting the first term, Aurora and Teddy had convinced Belladonna, Kimberley, and another girl from Slytherin, Sirena Argent, to eat some puking pastels and sneak off through the secret passage under the hump of the statue of the Hump-Backed witch to Honeydukes cellar.

7 days into the first term, another Slytherin made a comment to Aurora about her lack of house loyalty, which she had promptly rebuked with a statement about how segregation caused wars and death, and maybe they should be more accepting of each other if they did not want to fall into the old prejudices that caused the Great Wizarding Wars.

8 days into the first term, Aurora got into her first fight of the year after a third year called her a ‘Mudblood Princess’. Aurora’s mother being Hermione Granger, she had gone to a Muggle primary school. As such, rather than hexing the individual, she had promptly punched them in the nose and started a brawl in the courtyard. Teddy had promptly joined in, hair flaming red as he jumped into the fray. The fighting had been hastily stopped by Professor McGonagall; her face devoid of emotion as she took in the group.

10 days into their first term, Professor McGonnagle sat in her office. A soft smile came across her usually stern face after she dispatched the group to their detentions, welcoming the chaos that would be the next seven years.

\--

Draco Malfoy’s eyes opened blearily, unconsciousness slowly seeping from his mind as he groggily stared up at the white ceiling above his head. His brow furrowed as he vaguely recalled the event prior to the darkness and flinched as he remembered the feeling of Greyback’s claws slicing his chest open. His mouth was parched, and he licked his lip as he tried to bring some moisture back to his mouth. A movement to his right caused him to tun his head, and promptly gasp as pain sparked in the muscles on the left of his face, tightness tugging on the skin painfully.

“You’re awake,” a soft voice filled his senses. His piercing eyes found Hermione sitting in an armchair to the right of the bed, her knees pulled up to her chest. Her hair was pulled into a messy bun on top her head, a leather-bound book resting in her lap. Confusion filled his mind as he took her in, followed swiftly by embarrassment of her seeing him in this weakened state, then irritation that she had.

“What are you doing here, Granger,” he rasped out, a scowl marring his features. He fought the wince from the pain of his muscles moving. Hermione rolled her eyes and sat up straight, her feet moving to the ground as she stood and moved towards the bed. The book in her hands, ‘ _Werewolf Persecution in the 19 th Century’_ was closed and held to her chest.

“I, Malfoy, am here because your mother asked me to watch over you while she went home to bathe and check on Scorpius. She didn’t want you to wake up alone,” Hermione informed him tersely. Draco felt his heart clench, the thought of his mother worrying and stressing over him darkening his mind. Hermione reached to the bedside table and poured him some water, holding the cup out to him. “Drink this, you’ll feel better.”

“Did you poison it?” he sneered, and Hermione’s eyebrows raised. She gave a small laugh as she shook her head.

“If I wanted you dead, Malfoy, I could have just let you bleed out on the floor at the Ministry,” Hermione stated. Draco took the water from her begrudgingly and took a long drink. He savored the liquid coating the inside of his mouth, swishing it around and then swallowing it. Hermione looked away from him, biting on her bottom lip as worry danced across her features. Draco eyed her wearily, before snapping ‘What’ harshly. Hermione sighed, her shoulders drooping. “The attack, the Healers were not able to fully reverse the damage. It’s left scars.”

Draco blinked at her, the pain from his movements now making sense. His face shadowed and he looked down at his chest, covered by the flimsy hospital gown. His chest had already been laced with scars from his sixth year and the spell Harry had cast on him, as well as the torture he had endured at the hands of Voldemort for his father’s failures in his seventh year. He looked at Hermione, his expression stormy.

“Get out,” he snapped, and Hermione blinked in surprise at him, opening her mouth to question him. He held his hand up to quiet her. “Get out, Granger!”

Hermione shuffled back, swallowing down her urge to retort and pursing her lips. With a snap of ‘fine’ she gathered up her coat and bag, leaving his hospital room. Draco watched her leave with a fierce look, and then threw the cotton blankets draped over him aside. He swung his legs round the edge of the bed with a grunt, his feet chilled by the cold marble floor. Taking a deep breath, he pushed himself to his feet and slowly made his way to the adjoining bathroom.

After a moment of hesitation, he gently trod towards the mirror and lent over the sink, taking in his reflection. Four angry red gashes ran from under his jaw across the left of his face, his eye swollen and bloodshot from where the claws had caught his eye. The lowest ripped the skin from base of his throat, cut through his lips and the end of his nose, while the one above slice from his jaw, over the bridge of his nose and through his start of his right eyebrow. Two angry gashes ran over his cheekbones from his jaw, over his eye and through his left eyebrow.

Draco grasped the sink, horror ripping through him like the scars across his face. He closed his eyes for a moment, the pain of moving his muscles sharp through his skin. After a moment of composing himself, he stared at the mirror again with a deep, raspy breath. He could feel the panic growing inside of him and, in an act of self-preservation, he moved away from the sink.

He could not pretend he was not overly proud of his appearance. His features had always been sharp and pointed, but he had grown into them with age. His face had become more sculpted, his figure stronger and more muscled. He knew he was handsome, he had known since fourth year when Daphne and Pansy had begun swooning around him, trying to get his attention in provocative clothing. He had, in his fourteen-year-old hormone driven days, indulged the attention however as Voldemort had moved into his home and taken over his life shortly after fourth year.

Draco still felt the shadows of the anguish and agony that he had endured, the sudden disillusionment of the brilliantness that he believed was his father. He had seen him for what he truly was then. Weak, lost and pathetic. Lucius’s clinging to the ‘Blood Purity above all’ philosophy had ruined their family, had caused his mother to suffer and for him to be tortured at the hands of Voldemort’s pawn.

In the end, his father was nothing more than shell of himself, broken and empty, who had caused their family more pain than he would ever admit to. He had passed away two years after the war, and despite the sadness that he had felt, it had felt like a pressure had been removed from his shoulders. The expectations of his father had been removed and he had finally felt his own self forming. It was still changing, and he had somewhat managed to push the blood purity beliefs his predecessors had forced onto him, although he still felt those thoughts rising when angered.

Draco’s shaking fingers tenderly reached to the healing skin on his face, and he had to swallow the revulsion that shook his system when he felt the swollen raw skin. Brokenly, he took a deep breath and pursed his lips. He had survived torture, being forced on a mission to kill one of his teachers, he had survived a war and the loss of his father. He was already surviving the blood illness his wife was dying from and raising his son without the input of his mother. This was another thing he would survive, another thing he would have to overcome.

His shoulders dropped. He was not sure he had the strength to keep fighting everything in his life. The façade was starting to break.

\--

Hermione sighed as she took a long sip of her tea. She sat comfortably nestled in one of the plush couches in the Hallows Mansion drawing room, her feet tucked under her. Charissa sat delicately opposite her, a cup of tea in her own hands as she waited for Hermione to speak. After a few moments of silence, Charissa huffed and put her tea down onto the oak table in front of her.

“I don’t want to pressure you, cousin, but you came here for a reason. Please elaborate on your reasoning,” Charissa said, her tone firm. Hermione’s eyebrows raised momentarily at the use of Charissa’s ‘Mom’ voice before she took a deliberately long sip of her tea. Charissa pursed her lips and crossed her arms over her chest.

“There is no need to ‘Mom’ voice me, Charissa, I am perfectly capable of verbalizing my own feelings and thoughts without being forced to do so,” Hermione snipped at her cousin. Charissa narrowed her eyes and picked her tea back up, gesturing her hand for Hermione to continue. After a moment of deliberation, Hermione continued. “I’ve been watching over Malfoy for Narcissa while he is in St Mungo’s. He finally woke up today and he did not react well when I informed him of the scarring. HE kicked me out of the room.”

“And this is bothering you, why? You know Draco is cold at best, and cruel at his very worst. He had a shock, and his reaction was not to attack you, but have you leave,” Charissa queried and Hermione’s lips went thin as she furrowed her eyebrows.

“Honestly, I’m not bothered that he kicked me out, I’m concerned he is alone while having to face it,” Hermione stated. She was not lying; she was concerned about him being alone the first time he saw the scars. It would be a huge shock to see his face changed in that way, and as callous as she could be at times, that was not something she would wish on him.

He may be Malfoy, who had the ability to make her miserable, but he was also someone she had once managed to seek comfort in, who had saved her best friend from Death Eaters and who was, as much as she hated it, the father of her daughter. While she could regret the night, she had spent with him, she could not regret the beauty and wonder that was their daughter. It was not even that she liked him, but she had healed him after the attack, and she had watched over him on Narcissa’s behalf enough for her to feel concerned for him. Charissa’s expression softened.

“I don’t want to be concerned about him. I do not want to feel anything for him. But seeing him there, in pain, bleeding… I really thought he was going to die, Charissa, and my first thought was, Aurora is never going to know her father,” Hermione said. Her daughter had been at the forefront of her mind while she had watched over Malfoy. She could see the features her daughter had inherited in his face. The pointed chin and slender nose, the platinum hair so blonde it looked silver. Even when Malfoy had scowled at her, he had the same dimple that Aurora had whenever she got the same scowl.

“That is not unnatural, Hermione. He is the reason you have her and, you two shared something extreme together. Just because he made your life hell once, does not mean he is going to again,” Charissa offered, a neutral expression on her features. She bit her lip before continuing.

“We have no idea who Draco is now, the man he has grown into. He is a father, a husband, and from what I have heard he has renounced the pureblood ideals. Lucius may have organized the marriage, but he never liked Astoria, as her family have opposed Pureblood ideals vocally for years. He wouldn’t be married to her if he still believed this.”

“I hardly think he’s going to suddenly become a reasonable and well-rounded person,” Hermione stated, her now scrunching and Charissa huffed.

“He has come a long way, Hermione. Maybe he just needs a chance to prove it,” Charissa said and Hermione frowned. Charissa, despite the history between her father and Lucius Malfoy, had maintained contact with Malfoy over the last few years. She would know better than Hermione the type of person he was now, and she was a sound judge of character. Charissa could see the frustration on her cousin’s face and reached across the table to place her hand on her cousin’s leg.

“Give him a chance, he might surprise you.”

After a moment, Hermione gave a curt nod and took a long drink of her cold tea. She would give Malfoy time to lick his wounds and recover, and she would tentatively reach out and offer her hand. It was important that she build some semblance of pleasantries before she allowed him to be introduced to her daughter.

\--

Narcissa Malfoy held her hands clasped in front of her, expression frosty as she watched the white sheet be pulled over the head of her daughter-in-law. Astoria had passed away during the night as she slept, finally giving into the blood illness that cursed through her body. In respect of her fallen daughter-in-law, Narcissa wore the typical mourning robes befitting a Malfoy witch, a black lace veil hanging over her face.

Scorpius had been kept from the room, too young to understand why his mommy was not waking up and playing with him. Too young to understand the pain that this would bring him in the future.

Narcissa would not pretend she was over-fond of her Astoria. She had no issue with her ideals, but something had always seemed incorrect about her relationship with Draco. She had not agreed with Lucius regarding the match, but Draco seemed to like Astoria enough to treat her with care, and Astoria responded with the same gentle affection. After everything her son had suffered, a soft hand and honest affection was welcome for her son, so she had not interfered.

Had there ever been a hint that Astoria was anything other than the dutiful, caring wife, Narcissa would most definitely have interfered and Astoria would most likely have not survived. Thankfully, all had been well and Narcissa happily had a darling grandson to dote on for her troubles. The other issue, that always haunted Narcissa, was her maintained relationship with Hermione Granger and her beautiful daughter, Aurora.

She had felt uneasy about lying to her son and keeping the secret of his daughter from him, but it had been worth it to see Aurora grow into the bright, funny young girl she had become.

The relationship (which was the closest female relationship Narcissa had ever maintained) had tentatively blossomed into a somewhat friendship, and Narcissa found herself wishing more and more she had pushed Hermione to tell her son earlier about his daughter.

The woman was passionate and bought a fire to her son she rarely saw and, even with the history between them, she had seen the softness in Hermione’s gaze when she had watched over Draco in St Mungo’s. A softness that if carefully maneuvered, Narcissa could just make into something a little more.

After another minute of silence for her daughter-in-law, Narcissa swept from the room to retrieve Scorpius from the nursery. He would need watched while she visited Draco in hospital, having received word that he was awake and had ‘requested’ Hermione leave him in his room. A plan forming in her mind, Narcissa collected her grandson and his day bag, then stepped into the fireplace. She picked up a handful of floo powder and throwing it to her feet, shouting out Hermione’s home address.

Hermione jumped when her fireplace erupted into green flames and she looked up from her kitchen table to see Narcissa moving towards her with a blonde-haired toddler in her arms. The table was littered in books and papers, a half-drunk cup of coffee to her right. Her hair was wrapped into a thick, messy bun atop her head as she completed research into the most recent project she had taken on and coffee stained the front of her baggy red jumper.

“Narcissa, wha- what are you doing here? I wasn’t expecting you,” she rushed, standing as she watched Narcissa set the two-year-old boy on the floor in front of her sofa. Her eyebrows furrowed as she watched him toddle towards her, a big smile on his face as he waved at her.

“Hello!” he shouted, his chubby fingers wiggling at her. Narcissa set the day-bag down on Hermione’s sofa, and looked at her sharply.

“I have some terrible news, Astoria has sadly passed away in the evening,” Narcissa informed, her tone not quite matching the severity of her word. Hermione gasped, her hand flying to her mouth and brown eyes widening. Narcissa waved at her. “It is awful, but I require someone to watch Scorpius while I visit Draco in the hospital. I am hoping I can convince them that he needs to come home now, to mourn.”

Hermione blinked at Narcissa, her mouth falling open as she tried to construct a sentence. Scorpius had now managed to toddle over to her and hold onto her leggings. Her attention diverted, Narcissa waved a swift thank you before moving back to the fireplace and leaving the toddler in Hermione’s care.

“Hello! Na-na go,” Scorpius babbled, and Hermione’s shoulders slumped, her plans of working this afternoon now waylaid. She picked up the toddler, who clapped at her happily.

“Hello Scorpius how are you today?” she asked, and Scorpius giggled happily, reaching for her hair as he responded ‘Milk, thank you!’. Hermione smiled at him.

“Okay, milk it is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everybody! 
> 
> Hope everyone is staying well! 
> 
> I hope you like this chapter, albiet a short one. Please review and let me know what you think!


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